CollegeBound
by mute90
Summary: Smallville xover. When Sam meets an eighteen year old Lex Luthor at Stanford, normalcy and safety become a dream.
1. Farewell Hunt

The barn was an eyesore. Old and derelict, most of the children in town thought it was haunted. It wasn't. Sam Winchester knew this for a fact.

He could remember Dean checking for cold spots while Sam ran over every inch of it with and EMF meter in one hand and a pistol in the other. It was a routine check. Dad's orders.

Unfortunately, they'd been spotted leaving by the biggest gossip in town. She, of course, embellished the story until they were both running out of their like they'd just committed a crime. "They looked shifty, you know," she had said, "Probably had weapons and such." They did have weapons but that was beyond the point. She ignited the suspicion. The lines of communication in a small town were quick and others soon had their own opinions.

"The father's hardly ever there. When he is, he's out back shooting targets with those boys. Who gives their children guns? Really!"

"That older boy is trouble. I see him with a different girl every week. He's been making eyes at Dana. She's struck but my little girl don't know better and I got my shotgun ready."

"The youngest? He doesn't say much but, you know, it's the quiet ones you got to watch."

Dean and dad didn't even seem to hear them but Sam did. He kept his head down. It wasn't like he could go up to them and say, "Well, you see ma'am, if we don't shoot properly, we'll be getting our throats ripped out by the next demon we run across. Then, who is going to save you from that pesky little werewolf that's been prowling your outskirts? I also hate to break it to you sir but you're not watching your little girl as good as you think are. How do I know this? My brother came back from the barn last night with hay all over him. He informed me that little Dana Parker can do this wicked thing with her tongue. Well, now you know why I don't talk much. I don't want offend you."

It was just another crappy town with another half-witted Sheriff who trusted them as far as he could throw them. It was all the same but Sam was excited this time. Nervous would be a better word. Time had seemed to crawl since he snuck away for the interview. The letter would be arriving anytime at a post office box in Topeka. When his dad went to go pick up the mail, he wasn't sure what he expected.

All in all, he didn't expect the storm that came the moment his dad walked into the house. It had started with a "What the hell were you thinking?" and ended with a, "If you leave, you just don't come back!"

For Sam, it started with, "What's the problem?" and ended with, "Go to hell!"

For Dean, it started with, "You're just going to walk away from this, from us?" and ended with a cold silence that somehow hurt even more than all the cutting words coming from his father.

All in all, life had slapped him across the head, kicked him in the ass, and dropped him in this ramshackle barn with a suitcase for company. He wanted to maintain his fragile hold on sanity so starting a conversation with said suitcase was out of the question. He would just lay here, try to sleep, and ignore the panties with the initials DP that were strewn among the opposite haystack.

Sam shifted as a howl cut through the silence. It was a full moon. This was their first full moon here. It was supposed to be their last. Wait for the werewolf to come out to play, put a bullet in it, and hit the road. Dad was supposed to pick up some more equipment on his way back for Topeka. Sam didn't see anything in the car. He snorted. Yeah, dad did seem a bit distracted by the mail. They had three silver bullets left. They'd been low on cash until the newest credit card arrived. There was three left, one in each gun, just in case.

Not enough to even attempt to hunt that thing down. It was reckless. Dad wouldn't do it. He wouldn't be out there tonight.

Sam was going to be.

It's stupid. It's reckless. Sam checked his gun. The silver bullet was still there. It was a crazy idea. He'd have to do a lot of physical rough and tumbling to get close enough for a good shot. They were fast. There was no guarantee he'd hit. If he missed…well, he wasn't under any delusion that he could outrun a werewolf.

But he couldn't sit here in this place that screamed 'home' from the salt to the protection symbols to the empty beer bottles to the initialed panties.

He needed not to think. He needed danger and adrenaline that ran through him and narrowed down his thought processes until the only thing that could be screamed at him was 'hunt'.

Knife; wasn't silver, wouldn't kill it, but hey, it would hurt like hell.

Sam went out without thinking about the past or the future. There was only now and right now he wanted to hurt something, badly. It was his little farewell present to the supernaturally inclined.

Sam sliced open his pinky. Not too deep. Not too long. You don't want blood-loss to affect the hunt. You just want to lure it here.

'This is insane Sammy!' his subconscious yelled at him and he knew it was his subconscious because it sounded like Dean but Dean wasn't here. He surveyed his surrounding just in case. Nope, no Dean.

'You're going to kill yourself.' I'm not suicidal.

'Don't do this.' Stop telling me what to do!

'Do you really think you can pull this off?' You could but that doesn't matter right? You're the freaking best while I'm an amateur! You're daddy's little soldier while I'm the disappointment!

'I don't want anything to happen to you.' Then why aren't you here? Why'd you let him kick me out? Why weren't you happy for me? Why wasn't big brother there when I really needed him?

'Dad didn't mean it.' That's your favorite phrase isn't it? When dad comes home plastered on every anniversary of her death and yells about how, just maybe, it was our fault, he doesn't mean it. When he tells me I can't do anything right because I get an A in chemistry but miss one perfect shot, he doesn't mean it. When you're bleeding to death in the backseat because of a hunt he dragged us to and all he could tell you is to toughen up, he doesn't really mean it.

'This is insane Sammy!'

Crackling of leaves, growling, extremely bad breath; the werewolf has arrived…behind him.

Sam dropped and the beast flew over his head, his teeth just missing a shoulder. Its momentum carried it a few feet away before it stopped and turned back to him. Sam was back on his feet. The werewolf crouched and growled. Its dark coat blended so well into the night that it seemed it was only a shadow with sickly yellow eyes and teeth shining from out of the darkness. Its shoulders rolled. Its claws scratched the dirt beneath them. Its mouth pulled up to its gums so that you could see the full extent of its teeth.

Sam crouched, ready to spring in whichever direction. His gun was on his hip. His knife was in his hand. His eyes were narrowed. His expression was cold. He was a hunter, he was a Winchester, and he was in a shitty mood. His shoulders rolled. He licked his lips. His body was pumping with adrenaline and his subconscious Dean was gone. There was only one mantra playing in his head: 'hunt'.

So, that's what he did.

He spun sideways and brought around the knife as it came at him again It slammed into his left shoulder with tremendous force. That only gave more momentum to the right hand, which was holding the knife. The thing let out a cry of pain as the blade was plunged into its back. Sam twisted. It retaliated by swinging out a leg, catching him in the face and sending him careening backwards.

Sam maintained his balance and swung out again as it turned. Cut it across the face. Artificial. It would heal any time now.

He charged it. As soon as he was eye to eye, he grabbed huge handfuls of hair with each hand and jumped over it. He pulled the hair with him. The werewolf was caught off guard. It rolled onto him as he hit the floor on his back. Maybe that wasn't the best idea. He could barely breathe with the weight that slammed onto him. Or maybe that was good. He was behind its back and the teeth were in the front. Sam bit his lip to prevent crying out as it squirmed, hitting his stomach so hard that something cracked.

He let go of the hair and quickly moved his hand around it until he had a grip on the top of the head and the jaw. He twisted. There was a crack and another cry of pain. He let it roll off him.

A second later, he was on his feet and it was facing him again. Its head was bent at an odd angle. There was no more hunger in its eyes. There was just hurt, desperation, and rage. Sam distantly wondered if he looked that way right now.

It charged again and Sam wasn't fast enough. It hit him head-on, dislocating one of his shoulders and pounding his head against a tree root. Its mouth moved toward him. He grabbed it around the throat. Just slowing it down, really. Pain spiked through his left shoulder as he grabbed for the gun. It was certainly a close enough shot. He could see the inside of its throat as he shoved the gun under the werewolf and pulled the trigger. Maybe he should have put a little more thought into the aim. However, miraculously, it worked.

The thing let out one more sound, this one less of a cry a pain and more of a whimper of defeat, before it crashed down on top of him. With much effort Sam shoved it to the side.

Sam lay there, staring up at the treetops that were splattered with blood. The back of his head felt wet. Probably bleeding. His whole torso refused to respond to his commands. Don't move the shoulder. His hip was aching from where the gun had been smacking against with every attack. Everything hurt, especially his head.

This was bad. What did you do when a hunt was bad? You called dad. That was the simplest thought his mind would summon at the moment.

His hand went to his pocket. Unbroken cell phone. One good thing in an all-out bad hunt. Where was dad again? Where was Dean?

He hit number two on his speed dial and put the phone to his ear. It rang over and over and over again. There was no answer, which was odd. Dad always answered his cell phone. He must be on his own hunt. Dean always went with him.

Dad and Dean aren't available. Call Jim.

He hung up and hit number three. It rung once, twice, three times. Jim picked up. He let out a tired, "'Lo."

"Did I wake you up Jim?" Sam asked, contrite. Why was his breathing so heavy?

Apparently, Jim also noticed his irregular breathing. "Sam, is that you? Is something wrong? Where are you?"

There was a pause. Too many questions at once. His brain just wasn't working right now. He answered in the order that the words were processing. "Yeah, Sam…there was a bad hunt…went wrong. I'm in the woods Jim." The last question was the easiest. He just had to look. "It's dark and bloody and it stinks 'cause, you know, dead werewolf stinks. That's it…werewolf hunt…it stinks - ."

"Sam," Jim interrupted. "Where's your daddy?"

There was another pause. Where was dad? They hunted werewolves together, always. Besides, Sam wasn't allowed to hunt alone. Dad or Dean were always there, so where were they? Where - ?

_Then why aren't you here? Why'd you let him kick me out?_

Sam took a deep, shuddering breath. Oh, yeah.

"Sam," Jim's worried voice came through. "Sam, are you still there?"

Tears started to roll down his cheek. He couldn't stop them. It was too much and he was too injured. There was no more anger to fuel him or physical strength to keep him moving. He was drained. "I'm still here, Jim. Dad…we had a fight and I left. He said not to come back so I left and I – uh – I did something stupid. I got the werewolf though. It's dead. Did I mention how much it stinks, Jim?"

"Yes, Sam, You did." His voice was defeated now, like a man who had just had his fears confirmed. "I'm going to pick you up, okay? I need to know where you are."

"Pick me up?" Sam said distantly. Things were getting fuzzy again. "Far away."

Jim's voice got more concerned. "Sam, I'm only a few miles off. Don't you remember? You boys have been living only a few miles off from me for the last three weeks. Do you remember?"

Three weeks. "I think so."

"Good, now where are you?"

Sam thought back. Where did he come from? "The forest. I came in from the east side. I walked a while. Not too far in. Just so they couldn't see." Was he making sense?

He made enough sense for Jim. "I'm going to pick you up."

"Okay. It smells Jim."

* * *

"Stay close. He said there was a werewolf," Caleb whispered. He walked carefully with his gun out, loaded with silver bullets. 

"He said he killed it," Jim replied, also whispering. He held the flashlight.

"No, he said it was bloody around him, it stunk, and that a dead werewolf stinks. He didn't put that together."

"He wasn't putting anything together."

Caleb acknowledged that with a nod. He didn't let the worry show on his face but damn, he was worried. At best, the kid was badly injured. At worst, he had got bitten. Caleb cringed at that last thought. No, Sam was good. He would've taken a killing stroke before he let that happen. Freaking John. He was gonna' have a long talk with him after tonight.

"Caleb."

Caleb ignored the smell that assaulted his senses as Jim shined the light on a hulking figure on the ground before them. The branches around it were covered in blood. He moved forward with his gun outstretched. Jim came behind him and passed the light over the whole body, stopping at a gaping bullet wound on his chest. Dead werewolf.

Jim moved the light around. It fell on a smaller figure beside the monster. "Oh, god."

Jim lowered his gun and pulled the flashlight from Jim's hand. He ran it over Sam's face. Sam groaned and his eyelids flickered. Good signs. Blood was coming from his head. He moved down. The shoulder was out of its socket. The shirt had been stretched enough to see the bruises on his collarbone. He could make a bet they covered the whole chest. Nothing else seemed to be out of place on appearance. They'd do a full check at Jim's.

He passed Jim the gun and flashlight, which were then both held at the ready. Jim knew what he was doing. Caleb put one arm under Sam's legs and the other beneath his neck and lifted. He paused when Sam let out a whimper as his midriff bended. Ribs. He sighed. There was nothing he could do right now.

He got a good grip on him before looking at Jim. "Forgive me, Pasteur. I will sin. I'm going to shoot John Winchester."

Jim tried to laugh that off but, just for good measure, he was going to keep hold of the gun when they got back.

* * *

It took three days to get in touch with John and Dean Winchester. It took twenty-eight minutes for them to get there, giving a whole new meaning to 'put the pedal to the metal.' It took an excruciating four minutes of John and Caleb arguing and Jim trying to be a peacemaker before Dean could find out where Sam was. 

It took a full minute for Dean to comprehend the note on the empty bed:

Thanks for the help, Jim. I'll call you when I get there

Sam

After reading it, it took one second for his world to fall apart.

(Oh, yeah, John didn't get shot. It was a close call though)

* * *

A/N Tell me what you think so far. 


	2. Three Words

Disclaimer: The shows are not mine.

Summary: Smallville xover! When Sam meets Lex Luthor at Stanford, normalcy and safety become a dream.

* * *

Twelve-year-old Chloe Sullivan tapped pen on paper with increasing agitation. It was a stupid school assignment. Give three words that describe you. She'd much rather give three words that described the other people lounging around in the bus station. Some of them seemed a lot more interesting. Besides, she wanted to be a journalist. If she wanted to write about herself, she'd come up with an autobiography.

She looked at the women two seats to the left of her. _Bitter, irritable, and ugly._ The women caught her eye. "What are you staring at?" _Yup, she's bitter, irritable, and the ugly parts a given and highly visual._

Then, there was the sweeping man. _Does a phrase count? Everybody's favorite doormat._ A group of three children were turned around in their seat and shooting spitballs at him. The parents were too heavily ensconced in their argument to notice. He wiped off the ones sticking to his clothes and gave the kids an unsure smile. They ducked beneath their chairs. He turned to sweep and they started up again.

A younger man took the seat opposite her, dropping his baggage at the feet. _Ooh, here's an interesting one._ He was tall with a blue beanie covering his head, worn blue jeans, and layers of shirts in varying degrees of brown. He was holding his arm stiffly. There was a patchwork of cuts and bruises across his face. He slouched in the chair. _Depressed, delinquent, runaway._

_Next, the guy on the - ._

A women juggling a baby, a large suitcase, and a diaper bag struggled past them while digging in the bag for a bottle. The baby was wriggling in her arms. It made a particular jerky move. She hurriedly brought her hand up to prevent it from shooting backwards. She landed up smacking the upper contents of her diaper bag onto the floor. The guy in the beanie quickly got up from his seat and moved forward to help. He put it all back for her and handed her the bottle. She gave him a relieved thank-you to which he replied, "It was no problem, ma'am."

_Okay, maybe he's not a delinquent. Trouble magnet, maybe. Runaway, trouble magnet._

He pulled a pamphlet from his bag. Stanford it was printed on the back. He was going to college. _He isn't a runaway. Scholarly, trouble magnet?_ His eyes were going over the page with complete concentration. He moved the page down as he repositioned himself on the chair and Chloe saw what he was looking at. He was enthralled with the map of the campus. _OCD, trouble magnet?_ She bit her lip and looked up in thought. _Does OCD count as one word?_ When she brought her eyes back down, he was looking at her with one eyebrow raised.

"What are you doing?" he asked, looking to where her pen was poised on the page. She must have been staring at him and writing. Okay, she was a little freaky.

The top of the page had random words that were supposed to start off her assignment; reporter, sarcastic, reporter, daughter, reporter, cousin, reporter…Underneath that were things she had jotted down as she thought; bitter, doormat, runaway, trouble, OCD…

"I'm trying to determine if OCD can be counted as one word," she replied. Nobody had ever called her subtle.

"School assignment?" She nodded. _It started out as one._ "Then, it probably won't work. Teachers are picky."

"Tell me about it. Are you OCD?" _Hit the nail right on the head, why don't you? This is what comes from spending a week at Lois'._ He laughed lightly before answering in the negative. "Oh, cool…not that I have anything against people with OCD or anything."

"What else did you describe me as? That the one-sentence description assignment isn't it?"

She shrugged sheepishly. "It's three words actually."

"I had the one sentence in ninth grade. They believed that coming into high school meant needing to know yourself. I spent most of the assignment time psychoanalyzing my dad and brother. They hated it." He sounded happy and slightly reminiscent.

"What did you say about yourself?"

He was definitely reminiscent now. "I said I am a Winchester." She was confused and it must have shown on her face because he elaborated. "Winchester is my last name. It's also a rifle."

"Smart," she allowed. "I don't think Sullivan can be used as one of my descriptive words though. No double-meanings." She studied him again. _Gun loving trouble? _"I was going to put reporter three times in a row but you did say teachers are picky."

"There's something for you; teacher hating mongrel." Winchester looked around. He gestured to a group of musicians by the entrance. There were nodding enthusiastically at each offbeat note they played. "What are they?"

"Poor starving artists. What about him?"

Winchester looked at the man; cigar, receding hairline, oversized glasses, beard, and a cheap suit. "Groucho Marx reborn."

Chloe laughed. _Fun loving trouble?_ "What was your family?"

He grew serious. "My dad was a – an obsessive game hunter. My brother was a parent's worst nightmare. It's actually a lot harder than you think to describe someone. They can be jackals to some and gems to another." He smiled. "In most places we went, people thought we were going to attack them or rob them blind but, when they got into trouble, we were first to help out. It sucks, you know, trying so hard to do good things and never getting credit for any of it. It feels like you're doing it for nothing."

Chloe tried to lighten the mood. "That's why I plan to get mucho credit."

"You said reporter, right?"

"Yes, a journalist."

"You sound sure."

"If I want to be a journalist, I have to be confident. The mark of a great journalist is a steady supply of hate mail." Sam stared at her. "Perry White said that. In order to not be taken down by hostility, I have to have confidence in my journalistic ability. Perry White's the best out there."

"What if all you get is hostility?"

"Then you better have an extra supply of confidence or, at least, a stubborn streak a mile wide." The arrival of her bus was announced over the intercom. "That's me. It was nice meeting you Winchester."

"It's Sam," he corrected. "Thanks. I think I just might have a stubborn streak a mile wide."

"Yeah, me too. We're heading for the top." _Tenacious trouble magnet?_

"Ill look for you there."

_No, it was astutely tenacious trouble. Perfect._

Two days later, a teacher would receive a three-word assignment saying 'teacher hating mongrel'.

**

* * *

Sam Winchester's first journal entry**

I'm on a bus that's heading to California. My whole body hurts whenever we hit a bump and my head hurts even when we don't. There's an old women next to me who snores and is beginning to drool all over herself. I got disowned, did something stupid that could've killed me, and left without a goodbye. It took me until now to realize what that meant.

I'm alone and it isn't a wonderful feeling of independence. It's just lonely.

I never expected that I would be leaving this soon so I have five hundred bucks in my pocket to make it through the summer. I have no place to stay. I have no job but I know it's going to be okay because I'm John Winchester's son and Dean Winchester's brother. We do what it takes to survive. That's our legacy.

I'll be fine no matter how lonely I get. According to Sullivan, a stubborn ass like me can make it through. I suppose Perry White could show me the way.

Nobody should ever doubt that I love my family but this is my life. I'll live it the way I want. I won't let them tell me otherwise, bring me down, or make my regret what I did. Mom died on that ceiling and I think a big part of dad went with her. I'm not dead though.

I'm a Winchester and that has a dozen different meanings.

* * *

How's it coming? 


	3. Hustled

Disclaimer: Supernatural and Smallville are not mine.

Summary: When Sam meets Lex at Stanford, normalcy and safety become a dream.

* * *

Lex Luthor was the heir to a billion-dollar company and the son to the devil, if he did say so himself. The aforementioned devil was Lionel Luthor.

Speaking of which... "You're late."

Lex slid into the seat beside his father, being as inconspicuous as possible. "I'm fashionably late," he corrected.

"Only the dregs of society can afford to be fashionably late."

"That's odd. Everyone in this room looks as though they can afford quite a bit."

"Lex, I suggest you hold your tongue for the rest of this gathering," said Lionel. It wasn't a suggestion.

Throughout this exchange, Lionel and Lex were smiling. The reporter that was out of earshot but still had a clear view of them looked disappointed. After all, an exaggerated Luthor family squabble could sell.

Lionel's attention was taken by a group descending upon the newest arrival. Jason Bross, the only man there that was richer than the Luthor's. His table was front and center. Their table was front and to the left. Lionel's eyes were cold even as he gave a polite nod and smile. Lex was tempted to point out that he was fashionably late but knew better. He took a sip of water to hide his smirk.

A women was stepping up to the podium. Her tight bun made her skin appear to be stretched. As everyone quieted down, Lex ticked off the reasons he wouldn't sleep with her. Believe it or not, this was extreme, as his reputation had him with rich girls in all fifty states and Paris.

"Ladies and gentleman," she began.

Reason number one: she has a stick in there.

Reason number two: her nose is off-center.

Reason number three: There's a huge mole on the edge of her lip.

Reason number four...five...six...seven...eight...

"I, of course, give thanks to Lionel Luthor of Luthorcorp. He has provided us with an extremely generous donation." She applauded for Lionel with the rest of them. That was another reason.

His father was walking up to her. Lex sat up straighter, forgetting his growing list. He's usually informed before a speech. He needs to act appropriately.

"Thank you very much for that warm reception," Lionel began. "However, it is unnecessary. The education of our youth has always been valued at Luthorcorp. It is an honor to contribute to the fine young minds that are shaped at Stanford University."

There was more applause.

"It was especially an honor when I received news that my own son, Lex, had been accepted to such a prestigious university and would be attending in the fall."

**'Damn you!'** Lex's jaw twitched as he tried to arrange his facial features. He settled on a blank expression. The dean was as successful. His shock was apparent. You see, Lex wasn't accepted at Stanford. He didn't want to go and the dean didn't want to admit him.

His jaw twitched again.

"...behavioral issues, drug problems, and sex scandals," Lionel was saying. "I'm sure everyone here was aware of the media frenzy. This is one reason I was honored and surprised by his acceptance. Many chose to remember these incidences even as he strove for a better future. However, the dean of Admissions here at Stanford chose to leave the past in the past and, for that, I applaud him."

The whole room, including Lionel applauded. The Dean still looked shell-shocked but it could be passed off as embarrassment.

Lex brought his hands together twice. Then, he took a gulp of his father's wine.

His jaw twitched.

Lex was either out of it or his opponent was a good actor. He suspected it was both.

It wasn't until their fifth pool game that he realized he was being hustled. His opponent smacked the last ball into the correct pocket and an excited smile came onto his face, like he'd never won a game before. Actually, he'd won the last three games.

"That was pretty good. What's your name?" Lex asked. He racked up the balls again.

"Sam. What's yours?" His voice held a southern twang. He was all innocence and light.

"I'm Lex. It's nice to meet you." He shook his hand. He then leaned up against the pool table, facing Sam. "I'm having this problem, though."

"Are you okay?" Sam asked. He looked concerned.

Lex let out a small laugh. "Yes, I am. I just seem to be getting hustled."

"By who?"

'Oh, he's good,' Lex thought. "By you." Sam looked shocked. Sam looked hurt. Sam looked so genuine that Lex laughed again. He pulled a wad of bills out his pocket - a large wad. "Do you want to play a real game?"

Sam looked at the money. His eyes lost the giddy, just-born-yesterday, not-me look.. A small smirk played across his lips. "How much is that, anyway?"

Lex smirked back. "Two more beers," he called out to the bartender.

Not too long after, Sam called out, "Two more," and payed with his new wad of bills - a large wad.

Lex felt it was perfectly reasonable to be a bad sport. "Let's go again," he said. Was Sam laughing at him?

"Sure."

"Two more beers," Sam called out after his next win, and he was definitely laughing. He passed the beer to Lex. "There's no need to be pissed off. You played a good game." He took a large drink of his beer. He was in good spirits.

"I just didn't think I'd be beaten by an underage punk with sizing issues." Lex looked distastefully at his baggy clothes.

Sam's cheerful mood disappeared quickly. "I turned twenty-one last month."

"I'm sure that's what the fake ID says."

"Are you this big of an ass because you've been drinking or is it just your natural disposition?"

"I suspect it's both of those factors cooperating to create a mutually beneficial relationship." Lex took a drink of the beer. The alcohol mustn't be hitting them right. They were still forming four-syllable words.

The lack of good judgement was certainly coming into play, though.

"Since you suck at pool," Sam seemed to enjoy watching Lex bristle, "Why don't we do something else?"

"Race," Lex said, immediately.

Sam actually blushed at that. "I don't have a car...and we've been drinking." Lex was ready to cut in with a scathing comment. Sam spoke first. "Let's do something simple and fast."

"I don't want to have sex with you." Okay, he was a sarcastic ass.

Sam glared. "I wasn't asking."

"I just wanted to set the limits early on. Simple and fast, right?" That equated easily with him. He looked at two scantily clad girls just entering the bar. "Are you ready to turn on your charm Sam?" He held up more money for him to see, then replaced it in his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked.

Lex was moving toward the girls. He was good with women ever since he learned to show off his bald head rather than hide it. He spoke smoothly to them. He had them giggling. He could tell that Sam was holding back and he was amused. 'Don't tell me he's shy.'

"Can we help you, cue ball?"

* * *

Sam watched the two heavyset men approach Lex and the girls, his apprehension growing as they got closer. 'Please say they aren't...damn't!' The bearded one put his arms over the shoulders of one girl and the clean-shaven one began to feel up the other. They weren't looking too happy with Lex.

Sam thought briefly of walking away. It wasn't his problem, right? Then, he remembered it was their bet. He had promised himself he wouldn't hustle when he came out here but he soon discovered that legal work did not pay well enough or frequently enough.

'This is what you get,' he chided himself.

The bearded man threw the first punch and Sam knew he wouldn't walk away.

'This is what you get.'

* * *

Let me know what you think. Review.

(And thanks to those who already have.)


	4. Party

Disclaimer: Supernatural and Smallville are not mine.

Summary: Dean said, 'rich people parties; don't crash them.' Does it count if you're invited?

* * *

'This is what you get,' Sam thought, as the cell door shut behind him. Only one other person shared his cell.

"At least they had the decency to separate us from our giant _friends_," said Lex. He was seated in the corner, his bruised head rested against the wall. Lex saw where he was looking. "Sometimes, I wish I had hair."

Sam's hair partly covered most of his own bruises. "Yeah, well, they're worse off," Sam replied, taking the closest seat.

"Of course, I don't wish I had _your _hair."

"Lex," Sam said, stiffly. "The first punch knocked the buzz out of me. I'm not in the mood."

"I was thinking something less working class."

"Buy a toupee."

"What if I said thank you?"

Sam massaged his temples. "I'd ask what the bartender slipped in your drink and why didn't I get any." God, he definitely needed something to forget tonight. His financial status was bad enough without needing to bail himself out of jail.

"Whatever it was, it must have hindered my pool playing abilities. I'll be wanting a rematch."

Sam merely grunted, fingers still making small circles on his head. Somebody smacked on the bars, making him cringe and look up.

A man stood there with an amused smile and slicked hair. He was looking at Lex, who was far from returning the smile. The man tssked. "It's only your first night out on the town Lex. You couldn't waited to give yourself a reputation?"

Lex put on a mocking smile. "Detective Phelan, we see each other more times than is healthy."

"Stay out of trouble and we wouldn't have to, kid. Let's not forget that daddy's money keeps the ball in your court."

The word 'kid' and the implied insult had Lex's smirk falling out of place. However, a moment later, Lex's smirk grew wider and his tone became taunting. "That last incident was beyond my control. Your sister's just very…sexually aware. There's nothing wrong with that, of course. I rather enjoyed her company." Phelan glared. His first were trying not to clench...

...And Sam suddenly realized, 'You can't punch your payroll.'

"Sit tight, Lex. I'll have you out of here in no time." Phelan smacked the bars again as he left.

"He's going to leave you here for the heck of it, isn't he?" Sam asked.

"Only for a little while."

Lex wasn't allowed to leave for three more hours. Half an hour later, Sam was out. Bail money wasn't required and a rookie at the front desk said Mr. Lex Luthor wanted a rematch.

Donny's Grill was cheap, which was really all it had going for it. The food was crap and the place was far from sanitary. Sam scrubbed the counter, tables, and floor without having much of a result. The dirt had been left to soak in for too long when only the owner's son had been available for closing. With Sam and the cook there, the boy had no qualms leaving as soon as Sam's shift started.

The dinner rush was hell. Nobody coming here was the most upstanding citizen so Sam soon learned to withhold food until the argument started and he could swoop in with a distraction. It worked amazingly well.

The cook thought so, anyway. He was a balding man of forty who had worked there for years. "Don't worry about him," he'd said about the owner's son. "The boy snorts so much, he's gonna' snuff up his brain and die within the next month. What a loss that'll be to the world. Front page of every paper." He'd cleaned up the back before he went, offering what little help he could.

"You're a lifesaver, Mack," Sam had said.

"Don't go expecting it, kid," was the response. Even with the help, Sam was still there an hour and a half past closing.

He shoved the mop into the closet and finally stopped. He stretched. A series of cracks could be heard throughout his body. There was a creaking that didn't belong to him. Sam slipped his pocketknife out, turned...and rolled his eyes.

Lex stood there, his crisp slacks and dress shirt not looking right with the surroundings.

"Are you stalking me?" Sam asked. Lex cocked an eyebrow. "I don't want to have sex with you."

"I wasn't asking."

"I just wanted to set the limits early on."

Lex laughed. He sat on one of the stools. It was the cleanest one and Sam knew that wasn't luck. "I actually came to invite you to a party. I need my rematch, after all."

Sam rolled his eyes again. This guy was seriously lacking sense. "You still think you have abilities?" He took off his apron and hung it on the hook. Lex replied in the affirmative. "As much as I know Luthor's can afford to lose a lot more money, no. I'm not exactly dressed for - any - kind of occasion."

"It's a party. I'm sure everyone there is already too drunk to notice."

"Thanks, but no. How did you get in here anyway?"

"The door was unlocked," Lex answered.

Sam frowned. He moved over to the entrance, turned the lock and twisted the knob, then repeated in the other direction. "Damn't," he muttered. It was broken. If anything got taken from this place tonight, there was little guess who would be to blame.

"You know," Lex said from behind him, "I could have a locksmith here in ten minutes. They could probably fix that up and you could be out of here in no time."

"Let me guess, I can go to a party?"

Sam insisted on staying until the locksmith had left and given him both sets of keys. This was followed by a death-defying experience with Lex in the driver's seat. The young billionaire flew past houses and shops so quickly that his and Sam's head couldn't be picked up off the seat without extra effort. Despite himself, Sam couldn't help but laugh. He certainly didn't drive in a race car every day.

"You're kidding."

Lex turned into the driveway of what could only be compared to Playboy Mansion. The front yard had a fountain, the top floor reached for the sky, and a bunch of girls swam in said fountain. It wasn't until he got closer that he noticed the girl's glassy eyes and weird behavior. Sam shifted uncomfortably. Parties weren't his thing and Dean had warned him away from the kind that handed out drugs like candy. In Dean's words, rich people parties; don't crash them.

Somehow, that made Sam more eager to experience this one.

"The pool table are in the back," said Lex. "I want my rematch before I party."

"Yeah, you wouldn't want anything to mess with those abilities." He followed Lex into the house and through the various rooms. There were greeting coming from every direction. Lex only replied to half of him, seemingly unaware from whom they were coming.

They passed through the kitchen, where Lex grabbed a twelve-pack. Lex gestured to the left. He shouted above the noise, "There's a bar over there if you want something stronger."

"No, thanks!"

They made it to the back room. There were five pool tables inside. Two were being used for a game. A third had one couple in a heavy make-out session. Lex moved to a vacant one. He set down the bar as Sam began to rack up the balls. When he was done, Lex was already passing him a beer.

They played and Sam won. He went through one beer. They played again and he won. He went through two beers. Another man came over to play against him. Lex disappeared and came back toward the end of their game with a mixed drink. Sam took another beer. He kept playing, his beer intake not messing him up much, as his opponents often came to the table with something stronger.

What amazed Sam was just how much money they had no problem losing. Granted, they were drunk, but the faces of dead presidents just kept appearing no matter how much he won.

Lex mostly watched, nursing his drink. He disappeared a few times. His eyes got glassier each time.

Rich people parties; don't crash them, Dean had said.

'I was invited.' Sam tried to ignore that little Dean-voice in his head that called him a stupid ass. He ignore every odd-looking substance in the place to prove him wrong.

* * *

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	5. Orientation

Disclaimer: Supernatural and Smallville are not mine.

Summary: Smallville xover! When Sam meets an eighteen-year-old Lex Luthor at Stanford, normalcy and safety become a dream.

* * *

Lex wanted to hit Sam. Mind you, not terribly hard; just hard enough to stop that annoying skip in his step. After all someone should have warned him that skipping and tapping like that was certainly not a smart move around a person with a hangover. He would be doing the world a favor. Unfortunately, he was almost certain Sam could kick his ass.

He settled for a verbal attack. "What are you doing here?"

"It's orientation."

"No, what are you doing _here_, by me?"

Sam's mood didn't sour in the least. His face settled into one of mock hurt. "You've taken me out all summer, Lex. I thought you'd at least use me before you lose me." He couldn't hold the look for long and let out a snort of laughter.

"Did you eat the coffee out of the can again?"

"I'm in a good mood. What's wrong with that?"

"I'm not," was the simple reply. Sam was usually considerate of his hangovers and could always tell when Lex had one. Lex guessed it was the eyes that gave him away. He was wearing sunglasses today so maybe he should just break it down for Sam and end his misery.

"Yeah, well, you're on a hangover," Sam replied, dismissively. There was laughter in his voice. Lex stopped walking. His jaw twitched. "I'll see you in there," Sam said. He was gone so fast that there should have been dust in his wake.

Lex walked into the auditorium much more sedately. The freshman's were all piled in the first three rows. The counselor's eagerly greeted the students who ventured toward the front. Those were the 'geeks', 'teacher's pets', and 'people-pleasers'. Lex quickly tagged each face in his mind. Sam sat in a corner of the second row, as far removed from the gaggle of counselor and student as he could get. He would quickly be tagged as 'loner'. The tag wasn't that off the mark anyway. Lex moved to the middle of the forth row behind another group that had formed. These were 'moneybags'. The tag was self-explanatory.

Marcus and Trina Grailley – twins with dark hair and high cheekbones - were the epicenter of this group. Jon Lander was just as rich but half as smart and so was delegated to the right of Trina. Donald Carr was to the left of Marcus. Two people were twisted around in the next row to include themselves in the conversation. Lex spared them one glance. They weren't significant enough to remember.

"Am I interrupting anything terribly important?" Lex asked. He took a seat directly behind Marcus.

Marcus scooted down in his seat and threw his head back so that he was looking at Lex out of the top of his eyes. Trina shifted slightly so she could turn her head toward him. "If it were, you would have listened in and not made us aware until after we'd spilled the vital information," she said.

Jon laughed. "You make us sound like the CIA."

"That would make me a spy," Lex said. "I thought you had all grown out of conspiracy theories in the sunny state of California. My pilot seems to think this place is all bright colors and sweet faces."

"Compared to Metropolis, Lex," Marcus pointed out. He gave a lazy grin. "There are sweet faces, though. I'm sure you of all people have enjoyed the view."

"Are you reading the tabloids?"

"No, you've been making the news."

"I'm flattered."

Trina slapped Marcus on the arm. "Sit up." He sighed and sat up straight. She addressed Lex. "You've been here all summer and haven't come by once. I'm hurt. Instead, I hear you're spending all your time with Jacob and Tracy. Explain."

"They've returned to Metropolis. I had to see them for the summer, you know. They're old friends. You're not exactly one to talk, either. You haven't called me in two years. Explain," he mocked.

"Busy times," was the dismissive response.

"Can everyone please have a seat?" A blonde woman in a crisp grey suit was standing at the podium. Her hair was tied back in a tight bun. She had a more conventional beauty than what you normally saw in California. She slapped the podium twice with her folder. "Have a seat." There was a minute or two of shuffling. "Thank you. My name is Monny Watson. I'm the counselor for the freshman class. First of all, I'd like to welcome you all to Stanford and congratulate you on whatever excess got you into this college. Hopefully, it was studying."

'…and not an excess amount of cash,' Lex mentally finished.

Monny moved around to lean against the podium. "College is an exciting and stressful experience. This may be the first time away from home for some of you. You're surrounded by mostly strangers and you'll be sharing a dorm with a stranger. I don't want you to think of this as a scary experience, though. Think of it as an exciting one. You're meeting new people from different places and with different backgrounds. You're taking a step toward independence. You're learning to adapt to a new environment." She smiled. "You're around people who aren't tired of you yet." There were some laughs. "My point is, learn something from this and if you get overwhelmed, I'll be there to remind you of this little speech. Now, I'll turn it over to this year's leader of the student mentors."

A pert and much less welcoming blonde stood up. Her huge smile wilted and enlarged as she looked around at the students. Lex's group got one of the largest while Sam got one of the smallest. She clapped her hands. The sound echoed around the auditorium and in Lex's head. He quickly decided that he liked Ms. Watson a lot more.

"Hello, my name's Cassie…"

Jon clapped his hands and said in a high-pitched voice, "'I'm sure we'll be the best of friends'. She's sure we'll be the best of friends. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Friends with the leader of the student mentors – that's fantastic," Marcus replied, sarcastically.

Lex was now congratulating himself on his wonderful impressions. Marcus and Trina were indeed the leaders while the brown-haired Jon was amusement and cash. Donald Carr had said two words the whole morning but he watched and took in everything. The other two were sons of two partners in a drill company. Ethan and Mathew were only present to laugh and nod in the right places.

The tables in the cafeteria were divided by year. The freshman's were coming in groups, each mentor taking their own routes for the tour. The last group came in with five people laden with food trays. Three separated from the rest and moved to the other end of the table. A redhead, lanky boy in all black with headphones around his neck stopped at their end, catching Sam's arm as went to move past.

"Hi, my name's Mack. You can call me Mickey. This is…Sam, right?" he asked. Sam nodded. "Cool. Can we sit here?"

"Tons of room," said Trina. Ethan and Mathew nodded.

Trina leaned forward in her chair as they sat opposite her, Lex, and Marcus, and to the right of Jon, Ethan, and Mathew. "So, _Mickey_, where are from?"

"Disneyland," he joked. Nobody acknowledged it and the six were watching with disdain. He looked a little uncertain now, like he just stepped in the ocean and realized there might be sharks. "Uh, I'm from Las Vegas."

"The land of casino's?"

"Yeah, we actually lived on the outskirts, though. My mom doesn't like all the people. She was pretty nervous about me leaving to come here. My dad's a co-pilot. He works a lot of hours and she doesn't want both of us too far away. I had to remind her that I'm not in the air. She's still nervous." Sam cringed on his right and Lex knew why. If this was a shark-infested ocean, Mickey just sliced himself and let the blood flow.

Trina nodded, a look of mock sympathy that Mickey didn't seem to catch. "She should be, especially with the crash." Mickey frowned. "There was a crash just outside of Las Vegas not too long ago. We passed a t.v. on the tour. The news was on."

He looked shocked. "I better go." He left his food on the table.

"Sam, right?" Trina asked. "Where are you from?"

Sam swallowed before giving her a charming smile. "I was in Indiana last. We move around a lot. You're Trina Grailley?" She cocked an eyebrow. He explained, "Cassie gave us our tour. She explained how she was almost certain she met you at one of her parties. She said you were real nice."

"I don't remember her," said Trina. Jon snorted. Ethan and Mathew smiled.

Lex entered the conversation. From the look Sam gave him as he walked in, he thought he was still annoyed. He was but Luthors didn't throw tantrums. "If Sam thinks she said it, she probably did. He has a brilliant memory."

"You're making me blush, Lex." Sam's expression said 'I know you're trying to pull something, Lex'.

"You know each other," said Marcus.

"Yeah, it turns out he can play pool and chug beer. He beat me at a bar in the city. He's been tagging along to hustle my friends ever since." Lex ignored the glare he got at 'tagging along'.

"You should come to my dorm tonight, then. Ethan and Mathew are bringing the booze and I brought my pool table. It's a 'Welcome to Stanford' celebration." Sam started to shake his head. "Come on! It'll be fun and we all want you to come – don't we?" The other four nodded. It was less group enthusiasm and more ganging up. Lex smiled as Sam reluctantly agreed. He gave Lex a headache all morning and it was only fair if he was uncomfortable all night.

Lex stumbled through the halls of Jon's dorm. It was big and lavish and he just wanted to find the bathroom. He bumped into a table and muttered, "Eswuse me." When it didn't reply, he flipped it off. He spotted the sign for the restroom. "Aha!" It was big, wood, and looked heavy. It wasn't. He pushed too hard and fell straight through. He broke the fall by putting both hands out in front of him. He still landed hard. His wrist slipped and he cam down on his elbow. A jolt of pain went through it and up to his shoulder.

His curse was drowned out by dry heaving. Someone was already in the restroom. He sat up.

Sam was on his knees in front of the toilet, spasms going through his body but nothing coming out of his mouth. Judging by the stench, he had already thrown up quite a bit. Lex crawled over. "Sam?" He got no answer or even recognition. Sam's eyes were shut tight. He was taking in huge gulps of air. Sweat covered his face and dampened his hair. He looked beyond drunk. Lex frowned. The image was fuzzy but he thought Sam left early. Sam started another round of coughs before red specks flew out of his mouth. "Sam?" More red came out.

"Lex!" Trina called. He heard laughter. Trina pushed open the door.

"Trina?" Lex said in the same confused and unsure voice he was using to call Sam. Sam coughed again. There was way too much red this time. Trina stared for a second, obviously less drunk than Lex. She cursed. She pulled out her cellphone and fumbled with the numbers. "Trina!"

"Shut up!"

"Sam?"

It had been hell explaining to the professor's why Sam wasn't at orientation week. It was the downside of a private doctor. Your information wasn't leaked to the press or, in Sam's case, you didn't lose your scholarship when they find drugs in your system but you also couldn't get a doctor's note.

A week trying to talk to Sam had ended with a pool game. There was none of their usual joking. Sam was, as usual, winning. Two more balls to go and he scratched – deliberately. Lex stared at the table as Sam came around it. Sam placed his stick on the rack. They both knew Lex could sink both balls. "It looks like I'm out," said Sam.

He left Lex in the recreation center.

Now, Lex had a pool stick in his hand as he walked determinedly across campus. He was getting odd looks but he kept his head high and his steps sure. Nobody questioned him. Ethan and Mathew didn't question him as he pushed past them in Jon's overlarge dorm. Trina kept her mouth shut and Donald didn't even blink as Lex dropped the pool stick on the sofa threw a punch at Marcus.

Only Marcus talked as one hand covered his eye. "What the hell?!"

Lex kneeled down in front of him. "You slipped something in his drink." Marcus didn't ask who he was referring to. He didn't agree or deny. Lex's jaw twitched. "You've been shoving that shit down your throat since you were thirteen. It had to be you." He looked up at Trina. "Unless Trina is hooked now."

Trina crossed her arms and looked at the floor. Marcus was getting no help there.

Marcus pushed him back. Lex stumbled slightly but was able to stand on his feet. "All you Luthor's are the same. You think you own the whole damn world."

Lex's foot smashed into his face. Marcus cried out as the bone in his nose snapped. He moved into a fetal position. "If you try any of you're stupid ass tricks on him again, I'll show you why no one wants to challenge that belief." There was no reply. Lex moved back to the sofa and picked up his pool stick. "I've already paid your doctor Trina," he said as he walked out.

He made his way back across the other side of campus with the stick. He guessed that he still looked slightly ticked because people had gone from giving odd looks to steering clear. He stopped in front of Sam's door. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and knocked.

There were creaks and shuffles from inside the room. Sam opened the door. The inside was entirely different from Jon's. It was the normal size made smaller by the absent roommate whose side was utterly filthy with various pictures and posters tacked to the wall. The only decoration of Sam's was an old duffle bag and various books. Sam's expression was as blank as his walls. He waited for Lex to say something. Lex held up the pool stick. "I scratched," he said. "We have to finish the game."

Sam stared. "I got to something to do." There was an uncomfortable silence. "I'll kick you're ass after dinner."

Lex laughed.

When Sam saw Marcus' face the next day, he said simply, "I could've done better."

* * *

Let me know how the story and the new characters are coming out. Review. 


	6. Stanford Living

Disclaimer: Supernatural and Smallville are not mine.

Summary: Smallville xover! When Sam meets an eighteen-year-old Lex Luthor at Stanford, normalcy and safety become a dream.

_

* * *

The challenge started simple and not really like a challenge at all…_

The stress of classes and being friends with a boy committed to academic excellence eased the further Lex got from the main office. It allowed more trivial matters to come to mind. He stopped and cursed. "I forgot to lock the door."

Sam gave him an incredulous look. "We're almost off the campus. Leave it unlocked. Anyone with half a brain could get past it anyway."

"We have to go back," said Lex. Security was primary for Luthors. "As for a half-brained imbecile getting in, it's not the standard issue lock. I upgraded." Sam snorted. Lex turned and headed back the way they came. It was a long walk. Sam reluctantly followed. "As knowledgeable as I think you are in this - ."

"There is such a thing as too much sarcasm," Sam interrupted.

Lex continued, " – I have to agree with the locksmith."

_But, indeed, it was a challenge and Sam couldn't help himself…_

Lex had locked the door and was halfway down the hallway before he realized that Sam had been left behind. Lex turned. Sam looked at the knob, at Lex, and then pulled something out of his pocket. He bent down and fiddled with the knob. Lex came over just as the door clicked open.

He ordered another lock that day.

_And Lex was such a stickler for security that it was kind of fun – or really funny._

Lex didn't hear anyone come in. It wasn't until he walked out of the bathroom in his dress pants and still fiddling with the buttons on his shirt that he realized something was off. He guessed he looked rather undignified when he jumped a foot in the air while letting out a string of curses. Sam definitely found it amusing.

Sam calmly finished pouring his coffee from Lex's pot before turning. He leaned against the shelf. "Your lock still sucks."

Lex confiscated the cup of coffee and kicked a laughing Sam out. Okay, this was getting serious.

_So, by the time Sam was through with him, he should definitely have the Fort Knox of dorms at Stanford._

Lex came out of the bathroom fully dressed, shoes and all.

He paused at seeing Sam quite comfortable on his armchair with a cup of coffee. His face registered disappointment but not surprise. "How did you get in this time?"

"Window," said Sam, simply.

Lex strode over to the window and looked out. He frowned. Sam smiled his 'clueless smile'. He should think of patenting that thing. Lex doubted anyone else could make it quite as convincing. "The fire escape is not near my window." He glanced at his alarm. It was a recent addition. Lex had changed locks, knobs, and added trip wires to that door almost every day since their competition began. Sam got through every one of them. He had finally resorted to the alarm. "Does this mean my door is finally secure?"

Sam snorted. "No, it means my roommate has too many Spiderman comics. I got bored last night."

"Well, if a career as a lawyer doesn't work out for you, you could always become a professional thief," Lex muttered.

"Thank you," said Sam. Lex cracked a smile. He could definitely trust Sam to teach him the odd lesson.

_The challenge that didn't quite start as a challenge was a learning experience, and not just for Lex…_

Sam wasn't sure if Lex realized yet that he was locking himself in just as much as he was locking Sam out. Granted, the 'locking Sam out' part wasn't going quite as he planned but still…security was best if it enabled maneuverability. Maybe he should tell Lex that. Sam considered it for a moment. Nah, he'd let him learn his lesson.

Sam short-circuited the alarm.

He was pushing the door open and placing his equipment back in his bag when someone came around the corner. He hurriedly zipped the bag closed. The man is obviously not a student. He looks to be in his thirties with long hair curling around his ear and a neatly trimmed beard. He's dressed in a suit. A trench coat completes the ensemble.

He walked directly up to Sam and frowned at the open door. "Hmm, I could've sworn this was Lex's dorm."

"It is," said Sam. "Uh – I'm supposed to meet him here after he gets out of class."

"He didn't secure his room?" is his question. Sam isn't sure how to respond to that. He should recognize this person, he was sure of it. The man seemed to sense his floundering. "I'm being rude. My name is Lionel Luthor." He held out his hand. The tone was mild enough but there was a cold undercurrent to his voice that Lex didn't possess unless he was extremely ticked off.

Sam cursed internally. He'd hear rumors of this man and Lex said some pretty choice words when he was drunk. Nevertheless, he took the hand without hesitation. "I'm Sam Winchester." Was not locking the door or letting someone else in without your supervision a bigger offense in Lionel Luthor's view? Sam wasn't sure. If it was John Winchester, both would get you chewed out. "There was an electrical shortage this morning and the doors here don't really keep anything out," he made up.

"An electrical shortage?"

Another voice entered the conversation. "Yes, I went without my coffee this morning. It's been a very long day." Lex approached them in his usual outfit of slacks and a dress shirt. As Lionel scrutinized him, Sam wondered if he always dressed that way in case a surprise inspection came up. This certainly reminded him of an inspection, the kind the security guards always gave Sam and Dean. "Dad, I hadn't known you would come to visit."

"I had business in the area," said Lionel. He went from expecting Lex's clothes to his face and stopped at his eyes.

They were staring each other down. Sam didn't think he'd felt this uncomfortable before. In these situations, he's usually the one being inspected while a gruff man he not-so-affectionately refers to as Daddy General is on the other side. "Maybe I should come back later."

"You should."

Sam bristles at the dismissal. He keeps his mouth shut, though. He already had an ongoing problem with Marcus Grailley without adding another billionaire to the mix. "See you later, Lex." He catches Lex's apologetic glance as he says goodbye but he doesn't understand what he's apologizing for.

His dad is the ass.

This was just getting ridiculous, Sam decided. The man didn't have one partly polite bone in his body unless you had more green-printed paper to your name than was healthy. Sam was far from that status. The Grailley's weren't though. Lionel talked to Marcus with an entirely fake smile. He asked about his parents, the business, and the boy's plans for the future. It wasn't that Sam was jealous. Listening to a man spout out fake sincerity was not his idea of having a good time but Lionel was dragging Lex with him, which left Sam with Mickey, his roommate…

"So, then, he gave us a fifteen-page essay! I wasn't even the one who started throwing it at him! He's probably possessed –."

'Possessed' struck a bad chord with him. "What!"

Mickey shrugged, "If you stayed in our dorm enough, you would've heard." His face lit up. "One of our teachers is being haunted. It all started about a month ago with flickering lights and things just kept appearing and – ."

"Who?"

"Who what?"

"Who is being haunted, Mickey?"

"Oh, I don't know."

Sam stared at him. "Then how do you know it's one of the teachers or anyone at all." Mickey was silent. "Never mind, I just remembered my own history report. I have to go to the library. I want to hear about this later though." See, he could do some fake sincerity himself. It sounded like nothing but a stupid rumor anyway.

"Okay, see you Sam!" Mickey called out as Sam left.

Marcus heard. Fake smiles were exchanged all around. This was hell. "Hello Sam."

"Hey, Marcus, how's your nose?" Sam asked. He was concerned. He really was. At least, that was the message he tried to convey. Lex smirked and Marcus' smile turned frosty. "Trina, Jon, Donald…" he greeted each of them in turn. The other three were nice enough, if condescending but he expected nothing more.

"It's Sam Winchester, isn't it?" Lionel asked, as if something he learned an hour ago was just as easily forgotten.

"Yes, sir."

"My son tells me the two of you are good friends. I've been anxious to meet you." His cursory glance over Sam's secondhand clothes and messy hair showed that he didn't approve. "It's most fortunate I came and had this chance, isn't it?" He looked at Lex. Sam recognized that look. It was the 'we'll talk later' look.

Sam held his tongue even as he felt the muscles in his face tighten. "Yes, sir."

"Alright, then, I really must go." He was addressing the others. He had even turned to face them and had his back to Sam. He had dismissed Sam, again. Lex was glaring at his father. They both kept their mouths shut.

Sam was almost asleep when Mickey got in. He never went to the library but he doubted Mickey knew, and if he did, he would excuse it. He still believed Trina just heard the news wrong on her tour. Sam heard him stop at the foot of his bed. He was tapping something, probably his leg. Oh great, he wanted to talk. He was probably debating on whether or not to wake Sam up. 'If he does, I can deck him and call it a natural reaction. I wasn't fully awake yet.' Sam immediately felt guilty. Mickey hadn't actually done anything but annoy him.

That didn't stop Sam from cringing when he heard, "Sam! Come on, I got to tell you something!"

Sam slowly opened his eyes. "What is it, Mickey?"

"I asked around, because, like you said, how do you know if someone's being haunted if you don't know, you know? Anyway, I talked to Zach. He heard it from his sister that it was the second year counselor. Her husband died. After he died, she started hearing things. Then things started getting thrown at anyone who visited. Then, she started see him. She went real crazy and hasn't been to work in days. So, do you think she's really haunted? Sam?"

Sam had rolled off his bed and pulled on his jacket. He pulled his duffel from the top of his closet. Four sacks of rock salt were transferred to his pockets. "Do we have salt?" he asked, suddenly.

"I don't think so," Mickey said, suddenly uncertain.

Sam checked for himself. "Do you know where the husband was buried?"

"A graveyard?"

'Okay, I got to go," said Sam. Sam slammed the door behind him. He jogged down the stairs and across the campus. He resolved to get a bike soon. He really did.

"Mr. Winchester! Can I have a word?"

Sam saw the speaker and the answer came out before he could stop himself. "No." Lionel Luthor was in front of his limo looking shocked. It wasn't a good look on him. Sam let out a small laugh. He was stressed and in a hurry. Not to mention, you could keep your mouth shut for only so long and this man pressed all the wrong buttons. "Mr. Luthor, you've been overlooking me since you arrived. You haven't given me the time of day so, no, I can't you give any of my time. Things that demand my respect are damn scary or exceptionally talented. You're neither. So, if you want some respect from me, you need to bring your game up to a whole new level."

He didn't wait for a response.

It was an unhappy marriage. Ghosts that got angry so soon after their death had a reason. He had dealt with this kind of haunting with Dean and dad before. By the time they got to that one, the wife was already dead as well and both of the ghosts were taking potshots at each other, leaving everyone else to be caught in the crossfire. It had turned out to be violent marital fights. Sam quickly got the facts from the very much closed local library..

Thankfully, the wife hadn't joined the land of the incorporeal until after Sam had finished toasting the husband, who had booted Sam right into his own grave. It was after scrambling out of the grave while spitting out salt that he happily got rid of that one.

The wife was easy. One, nobody had found her, so he had no cops to contend with and he didn't have to dig. Two, she was on good terms with him for 'killing' her husband. She even let him stay there for the night before frying her in the morning, so he didn't have to pay for a motel room. She was a nice woman, really.

Sam got back late the next day, still smelling vaguely of salt and ash.

"My father wants you to come over Christmas break," whispered Lex.

Sam almost dropped his flashlight. "What?" he said, loudly.

"Shhh!"

They looked at Marcus, who remained passed out on his bed. His locks were even worse than Lex's. "Why would he want me over?"

"He says he liked you."

Sam shook his head in disbelief. He would think about this later. "You take the walls. We'll do Marcus last." Lex nodded and pulled out one of the bottles of spray paint. Sam moved into the bathroom. He pulled out a bottle of Nair and unscrewed the cap of Marcus' shampoo.

_An hour later…_

"Sam."

"Huh?"

"Why are you taking his salt?"

* * *

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	7. Metropolis

Disclaimer: Supernatural and Small ville are not mine.

Summary: When Sam meets an eighteen year old Lex Luthor at Stanford, safety and normalcy become a dream.

* * *

Lex had been hoping to drive from Stanford to Metropolis, a road trip of sorts. They could travel through backwater towns and he could get a picture of Sam's life because that just wasn't making sense.

His father had scoffed at the idea of a road trip. "Another time, Lex," he said, and that meant, "Never do something so common, Lex."

Instead, there was a private plane that took them to a private airfield. Sam had never been on a plane before. He had his face pressed against the window for hours as if he could spot something besides endless blue. He chuckled when they brought him peanuts and snorted when offered brandy. "You're acting like a ten-year-old," Lex pointed out, after the brandy incident.

Sam's lips made weird twitching motions as Lex took another swallow of brandy. "Do you always drink when you fly?"

"I suppose."

Sam chuckled again. "Are you afraid of heights?"

It's either the brandy or Sam's teasing expression that makes him snap, "Luthor's are not afraid of anything." He takes another sip of brandy to hide his embarrassment.

Sam nodded, mock serious. "Winchester's aren't afraid of anything."

Lex cocked an eyebrow. "A Luthor has much more brains."

"A Winchester has ingenuity."

"A Luthor has much more money."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "A Winchester can kick Luthor ass."

Lex made a dismissing gesture. "A Luthor can sue a Winchester."

"A Winchester can kick the lawyer's ass." Sam paused. "A Winchester can kick Luthor ass, lawyer ass, witness ass, and still have enough energy left to dodge the cops, so there." Sam sat back like that solved the issue. Lex was surprised he didn't stick out his tongue.

"A Winchester's ability to live outside the law seems to be truly admirable," Lex allowed.

"The Luthor's aren't so bad themselves." Sam frowned. "What were you going to sue us for anyway?"

"You must have something we'd be able to take."

Sam stretched out across the three seats on his side, yawning. "The car – but my brother would pump you full of rock salt first."

Lex frowned.

One of his father's drones was waiting for them when they arrived. He had a planner open in one hand. Lex didn't stop for him but he fell right in step beside the young Luthor. He handed Lex keys and began to speak rapidly. "Welcome back, Mr. Luthor. Your father is on his way back from Tokyo. He should arrive in time for dinner and he wants to meet you and Mr. Winchester at Honsillo's at precisely seven o' clock." He turned to Sam and said, "It's his treat, of course." He turned back to Lex. "He also insists that you be prepared for the press conference tomorrow evening to discuss the buy."

"He bought Luthor Towers months ago," said Lex.

"He believes you should be involved."

"No, he believes it will look better to the press if it's a rising family business, appeal to the salt of the earth."

The man didn't even bother to argue with that statement. "Nevertheless, he wants you there prepared." They arrived at a lone Jaguar. The man followed Sam around to the passenger seat. "Mr. Winchester, if you wish to attend the conference, please let me know now so I may acquire a press pass for you."

Sam buckled up and Lex pulled on his sunglasses. "Yes, please."

The man pulled out a small pen and made a note. "It will be at the mansion by tomorrow morning."

"You've been so much help," Lex deadpanned, before pushing down on the gas and shooting out of there.

Sam shook his head at Lex's antics. "They must hate you."

"My father's men are drones. They'll behave however he wants them to behave. My attitude towards them doesn't change anything."

"It might make you feel good to be polite."

"It makes me feel good to behave like a spoiled rich kid. Welcome to Metropolis."

Lex can immediately tell that Sam liked the place. It's in his smile when he takes in the shining buildings, busy streets, and man running through said streets with a purse in his hand and a cop behind him. He actually laughed out loud at that final view.

"Where can I get a camera?"

"Why do you need one?"

"I'm a tourist, Lex. I have to have a camera. It's what tourists do, right?"

Sam saw enough mansions over the summer that he only shakes his head once when the Luthor one comes into view. There's two cold waters waiting for them in the entrance and Lex showed Sam around. He showed him the routes to the most beneficial places; the kitchen, outside, and the indoor pool. He also warned him away from the dragon's domain; his father's wing, his father's office, and the dining room where his father eats.

"Do you have any normal rooms, Lex? This place looks like a suite." Sam fell backward onto the bed in his room.

Lex settled onto the couch and propped his feet on the bed. "A suite has a sitting area."

"What's Honsillo's?"

"It's a restaurant." Sam made a face and Lex added, "Don't worry. It's not as high-class as my father could have gone. I think he's going easy on you."

"Should I worry?"

"Only if he smiles too much at dinner."

-----------------------

"You could've told me the menu wasn't in English," Sam hissed over to Lex, hiding his face behind his menu.

Lex put his own menu up too. "I haven't been here in years. I forgot. Just order the special."

"I can't pronounce the special!"

Lex looked over the table. His father was examining his own menu carefully, looking for all the world like he didn't hear them. It was an act and Lex knew it. He glanced to his right. Sam was giving his father an icy look that might make him squirm if the man would look up. Lex instructed Sam, "Just repeat after me." Thankfully, Sam was a quick learner and was able to pronounce the special correctly when the waiter arrived.

"What did I order anyway?" Sam asked as Lionel was preoccupied giving the waiter a long list of instructions. Lex didn't answer. "Lex!"

"If you don't know, it will be easier to swallow."

Sam gave him an are-you-kidding look.

Lionel finally let a very harried waiter walk away. "So, Sam, Lex tells me you moved around a lot when you were younger. Why is that?"

"My father got bored easily. He'd move to a new town, finish what he wanted to finish, and move on," Sam answered, easily. "It seems you move around a lot too. You were in Tokyo, weren't you?"

"Yes, I'm attempting to make Luthorcorp a formidable figure abroad. It begins with a strong home base, which is where Luthorcorp Tower is important. You're coming to the press conference tomorrow?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good; you'll learn some things. Luthorcorp has moved into the competition. Now, what about your mother?"

Lex didn't think it mattered that he was there. The dinner went much like an interview. To Sam's credit, he didn't spit the food back out or even make a face at it. Granted, he didn't show any enjoyment either. The questions went from family to education and the future. Sam answered some questions, half-answered others, and somehow completely jumped a fair few.

A call on his father's cellphone interrupted the inquisition. Lionel excused himself. Sam gave Lex a wide-eyed look. "This is him 'going easy'...and why did you tell me to order the crappy food?"

"My father knew that food was crap. He liked that you didn't gag."

"This is him 'going easy'?" Sam repeated.

"The last person I brought home got taken to dinner, too. His was with my father, two senators, and the headmaster of his boarding school. The waiter's only spoke Japanese."

"Man, Luthor's are weird."

"I'm sure your father had his moments."

"If my dad didn't want someone around, he just told them to get the hell out."

"Were you not listening? My father approves of you." Sam stared at him. "Now, come on, let's go."

"Where are we going?"

"The good place."

"Why do I have a feeling it's not heaven?" When they arrived at the 'good place', Sam added, "Why do I have a feeling that, if I go in there, I'll never get to heaven?"

"Feel free to pray in the morning."

"Club Zero?"

"Zero consequences."

---------------------

"Zero consequences, my ass," Sam had muttered as he stumbled down the stairs that morning with dark clothes and sunglasses. Lex couldn't help but agree. He had to listen to his father charm Jason Bross' representatives. The man was laying it on thick. He wouldn't even get a moment's rest after this. The media hoard was waiting on the other side of the room for the press conference to begin.

"I look forward to having a more in-depth conversation about this with Mr. Bross," said Lionel.

The two representatives, a man and woman, nodded in unison.

One step was over. They exited the room.

People say that you learn to like things you're forced to endure. It's acquired tastes. Lex doesn't believe this. He still can't stand reporters.

It's 'Mr. Luthor this' and 'Mr. Luthor that' and, of course, Sam is at the front of the crowd taking his freaking picture with the 'tourist's camera'. Lex called it 'only Kodak' this morning and got a lecture about Kodak moments. He wasn't making that mistake again. It was a 'tourist's camera'.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

"Mr. Luthor, is there any truth in the allegations that Luthor Tower was purchased by illegal means?"

"Mr. Luthor, you describe this as a family business. Does that mean - ?"

"Mr. Luthor, the public wants to know - ."

"Mr. Luthor - ."

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Yes, Lex was sure that reporters were not an acquired tastes. The public only kept them around because they grew on them...like fungus.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

What was that?

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Lex really doubted his father installed a clock into his briefcase. Oh, crap.

Lex jumped out of his seat. "There's a bomb!"

* * *

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	8. Bomb Scare

Disclaimer: Supernatural and Small ville are not mine.

Summary: When Sam meets an eighteen year old Lex Luthor at Stanford, safety and normalcy become a dream.

* * *

Sam stayed down, his body pressed to the floor and his eyes flitting around, trying to catch sight of something, anything. There was only thick smoke and occasional shadowy figures running by, sometimes stepping right on him in their search for the exit. They needed to get down before someone got...

The shot rang out and the resulting spray of blood sprinkled over the side of Sam's face and back. The shadowy figure dropped a foot or so from Sam.

Sam crawled forward until he was able to pat the man's body with his hand. It wasn't hard to find the bullet wound. The blood was gushing from the wound in his neck. Sam pulled his hand away, sticky with blood, and paused as it passed over a camera hanging from the man's mutilated neck.

Someone rather big dove onto his legs and Sam kicked out.

It caught someone, who let out, "Shit! Stop!"

Sam cut his next kick short. He recognizes the voice, probably one of the gaggle of reporters that was shouting questions at Lex. "Shhh!"

"You just kicked me, asshole!"

"Shhh!"

He fiddled with the straps of the camera until it came off. He pressed his face practically into the screen until buttons came into sight.

If this worked, he'd be adding an infrared camera to his rather meager supplies.

------------------

Lex's fingers played across the buttons of the camcorder, getting more irritated every second. It shouldn't be that hard to find and...

The screen lit up and showed Lex's legs and feet in bright colors. Lex lifted it. The colors of the people blended in at certain places where they were grouped. A few were still trying to get past locked doors. A gaggle were crouched down by the wall. There were some on the floor. Security guards were shooting at whatever moved too close to them. A few feet away from Lex was the camera man he had stolen the camercorder from. That man wasn't moving.

There was movement to his left. He swung the camcorder around to look. There was someone crawling forward.

"Dad?"

"Lex?" The man moved faster. He turned to lean against the wall and examined Lex and his camcorder. "Hmmm."

Lex could only assume 'hmmm' meant 'good idea'. He'd take it to mean that, anyway. "I thought you had gotten caught on the stage," Lex whispered. Lex had jumped off the stage and into the crowd when he first heard the gasp and then gurgle from both sides of him. The smoke bomb was just a screen to make the assassination easier.

"I decided my performance was over, Lex. I took my exit."

"You were incredibly close to winning an award." Lex examined the stage through the camera. He counted the bodies. Only two others had gotten off. He couldn't tell which ones from this angle.

There was a yell.

Lex looked back toward the security guards. One in the far corner had just been disarmed. They were two people crouching down beside his prone body. One was pudgy and held some sort of solid object in his hand. The other was tall with the guard's gun in one hand and, from the angle he was holding it, a camera in the other.

He nudged his father further along the wall.

-----------------

Sam had to marvel on how easy it was to catch a bald head on an infrared camera.

He watched the Luthor's on the opposite wall move towards the front desk. They disappeared behind it for a second before the alarm went off. They were getting backup.

Sam shook his head. He was way too used to going commando.

He moved the camera up and down the room, trying to catch something new. The man beside him was moving away until he was swallowed by the fog. More shots rang out and there was a crash toward the front.

The man's voice floated through. "I don't suppose you got a picture if our esteemed Luthor's before the damn bomb went off?" Sam rolled his eyes.

"What – White – are you crazy?"

"I'm just saying - ."

"Shhh!"

Sam stopped the camera.

There was someone moving up behind the guards, a girl, he thinks. She came up behind the biggest one, looped an arm around his shoulder, yanked him back, and... Sam frowned. Was she biting him?

The guard yanked his head forward. "Holy shit!"He moved his gun up. The girl knocked it aside. The other guards were shooting in their general direction now. The girl ducked. The bitten guard got caught in the shoulder and went down. He let out some more curses. "Stop shooting!"

They knew who he was apparently because they did stop.

Sam's hand tightened on his gun. The girl, where did the girl go? He lost sight of her.

She came up again, this time behind the other guards. She was quick, way too quick to be normal. She pulled the next guard to her. This one wasn't as fast or as strong as the first. He struggled but she held him in place. She was way too small for that to be normal, either. Sam brought up his gun and shot.

-------------------

When the backup came, the fog was already beginning to dissipate.

When he was able to look at his father clearly, Lex saw the flesh wound. The man had been grazed by a bullet and there was no doubt every guard here tonight would have a career setback.

When he took stock of the situation, he found out that the two to get off the stage were the Bross representatives and neither had made it. They were both shot. Yes, the security was definitely going to be hit with a lawsuit that would blame so much on them that Luthorcorp would be seen as the ones who needed support.

When Lex saw Sam looking closely at the dead woman, he cocked an eyebrow. Sam gave him the needs-to-be-patented smile. It wasn't as convincing with the the blood sprayed on his face and caked on his right hand.

----------------

"You saw a vampire? That's impossible."

Sam took another book from the stack on his bed, library books. He readjusted the phone. "I didn't say it was a vampire. I said it fit with vampire lore. Well, except for the fact I did see her in the sun and bullets killed her. I'm telling you, though, she had the teeth. The guard said she was sucking on his neck, drinking the blood."

"Did you check the body?  
"I tried. They moved her from the morgue to some sort of testing facility. Supposedly, she made herself available for study after death." Caleb snorted and Sam added, "Scientific study, pervert!"

"I ain't interested in dead women, Sam."

"Just succubus'."

"That was a one-time deal and they ain't dead, just demonic. Give me the name of the facility. I'll have Ash check it out."

"Is Ash another succubus?"

"That's sick. Give me the name."

"It's called Cadmus Labs, owned by Jason Bross." Sam leaned back in his chair, sighing. With the Luthor's giving statements all over town, he'd been free to do this for hours. "I can check with some people who were at the press conference."  
"No."

"Caleb."

"You only hunted once by yourself and that didn't go down right."

Sam refrained himself from telling Caleb about the ghosts. It was a simple salt and burn but the man wouldn't like it. "I've done research by myself."

"You had people backing you up, just in case. They got your name down there, too. That isn't some shit-end town you can just skip out on. I know a hunter working a job in Kansas. I'll call him."

"What about the Luthor's?"

"I haven't met an evil ass who uses smoke bombs. I've heard of the Luthor's. No one likes 'em. This thing probably just took advantage. What are you doing with 'em, anyway?"

"Lex goes to Stanford. Look, when is the hunter going to be here?"

"He'll be there after the Smallville job is done. The town's only a few hours away. Don't worry."

Sam rolled his eyes. Yeah, he was just involved in a normal assassination attempt. What's to worry about? "Is Pasteur Jim still mad at me?"

"He wanted you to come for Christmas, said you should keep tradition."

"We only went to his house for Chrismas twice."

"It was two years in a row."

"Every other year we just ate ham sandwiches and drank dad's whiskey." 'Without dad' was left unsaid. Sam's voice had sobered. "I'll talk to you later, Caleb."

He didn't talk to him later, though. When his phone rang on Christmas Eve, he didn't answer. It was abandoned on the bed and Sam was on the balcony with a plate on his lap. It was almost midnight when he came up. Lex came up a half hour later.

"You're brooding," said Lex.

Sam smiled, slightly. "Some guy came up to me and started talking about corporate wages. His thirteen-year-old daughter grabbed my ass. It freaked me out."

"Adeline."

"What?"

"Her name was Adeline. That wasn't really her father. Her mother's a black widow. Her first husband died of heart failure, even though his doctor's insist his heart was fine only a month before. The second just went missing. This is the charmed number three."

Sam shook his head. "Metropolis people are weird."

"Some reporters say it's something in the water, something manufactured by Luthor's, of course. You know, you never talked about the conference."

"Did you think I would freak out?"

"It's possible."

"You didn't."

"I'm used to these situations." Lex cocked an looked straight at him, seeking a reply.

Sam measured him up. He was the son of a traveling salesmen, he had said, and Lex obviously knew that was bullshit. "So am I."

Lex nodded and looked away. "I don't have to worry about you running around like you've lost your head, if something like that happens again?"

"You didn't know that?"

"An assassination is a bit different than a bar fight." He smirked. "I'm better at the latter."

Sam gave him that smile, and it was much more innocent without the blood. "Considering how much you suck at the former, that's good."

Sam grabbed one of the remaining ham sandwiches off his plate and took a huge bite. He swallowed it down with a small drink of whiskey and Lex didn't ask.

* * *

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	9. Newsworthy

Disclaimer: Supernatural and Smallville are not mine.

Summary: Smallville xover! When Sam meets an eighteen-year-old Lex Luthor at Stanford, normalcy and safety become a dream.

* * *

They should have expected it, and Lex did. It was their first day out of Metropolis, back among the public and away from his father's bodyguards. There was also the problem that two representatives of the biggest name in California were murdered. The press saw a story.

Lex waited for two of the security guards at the landing strip to shove a path through the crowd. Sam seemed to shrink behind him, blinking rapidly as camera's clicked and people shouted.

"Just ignore them," Lex said, over his shoulder.

He got a snort in return but Sam didn't say a word as they made their way to Lex's car. He ducked his head in the passenger seat. "What the hell?" he said, as they left the crowd behind.

"We're newsworthy."

"I'm not newsworthy!" Sam protested.

"You witnessed an assassination attempt. Your report has probably been leaked, which means they know you had a camera. You saw more than almost anyone else."

"So?"

"So, you have facts. Journalists need facts in order to misinterpret them."

"Misinterpret?"

Lex smirked. "They hardly ever get it right."

----------------------

THWACK!

Lex froze in place, giving a sideways glance to the shining metal only inches from his face. He looked at Sam, who was sitting up in bed with his mouth slightly open. "Good morning," he said.

That seemed to reach the taller boy. "Lex! Oh, shit! I'm sorry!"

Lex yanked the knife out of the wall. How…sharp. "You're up late," said Lex, still examining the blade.

Sam hadn't moved from his position. "Jetlag. Um – that's – um - ." He ran a hand through his hair. It was already sticking up in odd directions. His clothes were rumpled and his eyes were still swollen from sleep. Lex might have found it amusing if a knife hadn't come flying at his head beforehand. Sam gave up on an excuse. "Oh, shit. Sorry!"

"Woah," muttered Mickey. Lex wasn't sure when he had woken up but it was definitely early enough to surmise what had happened.

"Where did you get this?" asked Lex.

Sam gestured back toward the head of his bed.

"Your pillow? You sleep with this under your pillow?" Lex tried to keep the incredulity out of his voice. He had a gun but it was in the side table in his dorm, not nestled under where he laid his head.

"Woah," Mickey repeated.

Lex carefully put the knife down on Sam's desk. "Get dressed. We're going to be late."

"Sorry," said Sam.

Lex tried to relax. "It's fine. I usually have to duck to avoid these things. This is a step in the right direction."

"Right," Sam muttered. "I'll just – get dressed."

Lex nodded "I'll meet you at the tables." He walked out, shut the door behind, took a few steps, and then leaned slightly against the wall. That knife was very…sharp. It was sharp and close.

Mickey's voice could be heard through the door. "Woah! Was your family in a circus, or something, before you came here?"

"A circus?" said Sam, disbelievingly.

Lex shook his head. Of all the conclusions to come to…

"A circus?" said Lex, when Sam met him.

Sam had already gotten a pop tart from one of the vending machines. He took a seat opposite Lex. "They do throw knives at circuses."

"You didn't actually let him think you came from a circus?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "No, I told him my dad was a marine. He taught me some things."

"Some things?"

"Yeah, with guns, knives, and first aid. Marine stuff."

"You didn't miss my head, did you?"

Sam held his gaze for a moment before admitting, "I hit exactly where I was aiming."

CLICK!

Sam closed his eyes and seemed to count to ten. When he opened them again, he threw a dirty look at the journalist and photographer. Campus security was already heading in their direction, having followed Lex since the first time a reporter had snuck onto the grounds.

"They'll get bored," said Lex.

"Are you sure?"

Lex didn't answer and, the next day, he was glad.

Sam was already in Lex's chair when he exited the bathroom. The alarm had been disarmed and the lock bypassed. Sam wasn't drinking coffee this time, though. He was glaring at the opposite wall, a tabloid clenched in his fists.

"Mickey gave it to me," he said. He tossed the tabloid to Lex.

Bruce Willis was the main subject but the picture in the corner was taken at Stanford, outside the recreation center. Sam had a backpack slung over his shoulder and Lex was toting a black messenger bag. They weren't yet aware of the photographer.

"They could have at least sent a good photographer."

"Lex!"

"What should I be saying?"

"I'm on a freaking tabloid!"

"Yes, you are," said Lex, calmly. When Sam glared at him, he tossed the paper on the bed. "This is my life, Sam."

"Yeah, but it's not mine! I mean - ." Sam massaged his head. "Look, I'm not blaming you but…_I'm on a freaking tabloid_." His last sentence was more of a whine. He put his head in his hands. His next words were muffled. "I feel I should just be happy I've got all my clothes on."

"You really should." Lex turned on the coffee machine.

"You sound sure."

"I speak from personal experience."

"I don't even want to know."

"I wasn't planning on telling you."

"If it's in a tabloid, I can just go dig it up."

Lex waved his hand. "It's old news. They're waiting to catch me sneaking out of the sorority house now.

Sam finally dropped his hands and he was smirking now. "Where were you coming out of last time?"

"It was a movie set."

Sam shook his head. "I come to fit in and I get stuck with a porn star."

"It was entirely unintentional."

"Whatever. Cassie stopped me on the way up here."

"The blonde mentor?"

"Yeah, she said to remind you about tonight." He put a dirty look on his face and mimicked her voice. "'I suppose he can bring someone if he really wants to.' Three guesses who she was talking about."

"You're not promising enough for her?"

"If promising enough means rich enough, no. What's she talking about?"

"We're going to a party tonight." Lex put two cups down on his desk and Sam stood to take his own. Sam opened his mouth but Lex interrupted, "We're not studying tonight. We just got back."

"We got back a few days ago. I wasn't even going to say studying." He blushed. He continued in a lowered voice. "I was gonna' say required reading. You could go alone."

Lex took a sip of his coffee. "We're not doing any required reading. I can't leave you, either. You'll get used to spending the night's in your room. It likely to become a cycle."

"God, forbid. Where is this thing?"

"It's in a sorority house."

Sam rolled his eyes. His phone rang. He flipped it open, looked at the screen, and closed it again. Lex raised an eyebrow. "Some reporters got my phone number," said Sam. "I'm not answering any number I don't recognize."

"Caller ID is a blessing."

"This guy just keeps calling back."

"Is there a name?"

Sam flipped his phone open again. He read from the screen. "White, P.."

Lex's jaw twitched. "Wonderful."

"You know him?"

"His name is Perry White."

Sam frowned. "Hate-mail Perry White."

"What?"

"Just something I heard. He's supposed to be a good reporter because all of his hate-mail. Did you send some?"

"I'd like to send him a lot more than hate-mail."

* * *

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	10. Ethics

Disclaimer: Supernatural and Smallville are not mine.

Summary: When Sam meets an eighteen year old Lex Luthor at Stanford, safety and normalcy become a dream.

* * *

"Excuse me."

"Don't you think the people of California have a right to know who threatened representatives of one of their own big names?"

"You don't work in California. Excuse me."

"That's a technicality. So, you don't think the public has rights?"

"I think a student has rights to a school environment free of stalkers. Get the hell out of my way." Sam moved around the man, who didn't block him this time.

Instead, he followed him. "This isn't stalking."

"You've left around thirty messages on my phone and you've been following me around all afternoon. What do you call that?"

"Persistence."

Sam shook his head. Lex was right. Perry White was certainly a piece of work. The type of work Sam wanted to take out back, salt, and burn. "Go away."

"You've said that before."

"Yeah, well, I'm persistent."

"Good. That'll get you far. An interview would make this go by faster. I'd be out of your hair if I could just get a few statements on the incident in Metropolis." Sam didn't answer. That was a clear 'no'. "Okay, where are we going now?"

"We're going to see Lex."

"I was thinking you're big enough to handle this yourself and, I gotta' say, I'm disappointed."

"For some reason, I don't feel bad."

"Do you feel bad about Helen Marshall?"

Sam didn't pause in his steps, didn't even blink. "That was a Bross representative, wasn't it?"

"That's right. The poor woman was shot in the head." White quickened his pace. He stayed a step ahead of Sam, his eyes flicking to his face as he spoke. "The official statement was that it was an accident. The security company is facing lawsuit after lawsuit."

"At least they have suspects. You'd think people would be more worried about those assassins."

White nodded, and waggled a finger in Sam's face. "You'd think so, wouldn't you? After all, those guys were going for Bross' men just as much as anyone else on that stage."

Sam stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. He didn't. Sam shot him an annoyed look. He glared ahead of him for a few seconds. Reluctantly, he asked, "What do you mean?"

White smiled. His voice lowered. "Both of Bross' men had blood on them that wasn't theirs. Now, there's a lot of blood to go around but I can't figure out how someone else's blood got in Marshall's mouth." Sam stopped walking. White stopped with him. "Of course, there was also blood on her partner's sleeve."

"Like you said, there was lot of blood going around."

"Two of the guards said they were bitten. They weren't stabbed. Their minds didn't play tricks on them. They were bitten. Nobody believes them."

Sam smirked. "You don't like to think of cannibalism at a press conference."

"Human flesh wasn't missing. Blood was."

"You think Helen Marshall drank their blood," mocked Sam. "Vampiric tendencies, huh?"

White wasn't insulted. His smile didn't drop an inch. "Crazy or not, the bodies got taken way too quick. Nobody was allowed to test that blood. Nobody was allowed to take a look at those bodies. I had to figure this out with sheer…persistence."

"Your right. It does sound crazy. You should stick with those lawsuits. They're crazy men with guns instead of extra-sharp teeth."

White dug around in his pockets and pulled out a card. "I'm staying in town. Call me if you change your mind about those statements." He walked a few steps before stopping again. He turned, with a frown. "Crazy men with guns? Didn't you have a gun?"

It took a second for the memory to fall into place. Sam huffed. "Did you ever get that picture you were suicidal for?"

"I found another story to go after."

"Blood-drinking women?"

"Why not? I've heard about crazier things. In New York City, there were reports of wolf attacks. Bodies were turning up all over the city but they never found the wolf. They found a man, though, moving away from two dead bodies. One was mauled. One was shot. His name was John Winchester. He escaped jail two days after his arrest. Both his kids were taken to foster homes but they disappeared a month later. There was no real evidence against him. No gun. The case was closed. Of course, that man's been getting hot lately, unconnected dots all over a few states."

Sam's jaw hardened.

White shrugged, like it was a throwaway comment. "Like I said, I've heard of crazier things."

---------------------

"You know, it's polite to stay at a party until the host is drunk. It's so they don't notice you leave."

Sam shook his head. He used to think he was so good at sneaking around. "Cassie won't mind."

Lex watched him shift the bag on his shoulder. "Study-night?"

"No." _We do what we do and we shut up about it._ It's the Winchester family code. It's been drilled into Sam's head. It wasn't like he was hunting, though. His dad would disagree… "A reporter's not known for his ethics, right?"

"Perry White?"

Sam nodded.

"He has something on you?"

Sam thought about that. "It's a lot of little things."

"What are you planning to do?"

"A little of this. A little of that." Sam bit his lip. "You know, I think he has a good idea who's trying to kill you, too."

"Are you asking me to come?"

Sam shrugged. "Well, I don't have a car." He shifted the bag again. "You're kind of better at this, too. I'm used to be a moving target."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were scared."

"Forget it. I'll walk."

--------------------

"I want to attend a party and you want to break into a reporter's hotel room."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yes, Lex."

"I'm just making sure I understand this." He paused. "You realize breaking and entering is illegal?"

"Winchester's and Luthor's have the ability to live outside the law, remember?"

Lex nodded. "Luthor's are usually more subtle than this."

"Do you want to stay here?"

"Do I want to miss the chance of invading Perry White's personal space? No. How do you know he's not in there?"

"I paid a girl to pick him up. She was happy about it, too. Seems to think Perry White is a man of the people." Sam crouched down in front of the door. "It looks weird if you keep messing with it." He jerked his thumb at Lex's head.

Lex stopped fiddling with the beanie. "It looks weird no matter what."

"Sorry, but you're not exactly inconspicuous." Sam opened the door.

Lex followed him in. "Neither are you."

"My face isn't posted on tabloids across the country."

"It's posted on a few."

Sam glared, having tried very hard to ignore that. "If you want, I'll wear a hat next time." Sam pulled out the side-table drawer. "We need to find his computer."

Lex picked the suitcase up onto the table. "Were you planning to do this often?"

"What?"

"You said 'next time'. Should I be investing in gloves, ski masks, rappelling equipment…"

Sam crawled out from under the bed. "We're not professional thieves, Lex. Found it."

"He probably has copies back in Metropolis."

Sam threw him a look. "Thank you, Lex."

"I'm just reminding you."

"No, really, thank you. I wouldn't want any long-lived relief."

"It's possible to be too sarcastic."

Sam gave him another look.

"Let me guess. You're planning to walk now.

"Why would I do that? I lifted your keys at the door."

* * *

How's it coming? Review. 


	11. Good to be Good

Disclaimer: Supernatural and Smallville are not mine.

Summary: When Sam meets an eighteen-year-old Lex Luthor at Stanford, safety and normalcy become a dream.

* * *

Sam broke through more passwords and encryptions than should be needed for a dirty congressman more or less a reporter, worked through three sweet runs by Lex, drank six cups of coffee, survived eight hours of what he called 'mad hacking skillz' – a phrase that led to the first sweet run when Lex insisted Sam was falling asleep on him – and managed a tiring call to Caleb at three in the morning.

_"Do you know what time it is?"_

_"Good morning to you, too. It's Sam."_

_"Do you know what time it is?"_

_"About three?"_

_"If it was three, I wouldn't have answered the freaking phone. Time change, genius."_

_Sam sighed. "Fine; tell me what time it is."_

_"Too damn early for a phone call."_

_Sam snorted. "That sounds like a knock-knock joke – without the knock-knock."_

_There was a shuffling sound as Caleb readjusted the phone. "I don't care if you're a college boy now. If you're ass is drunk-dialing me, I swear to god…"_

_"It's important. I need you to get a little info and some warning to my dad."_

_"You couldn't call him?" There was a pause. "Oh, yeah. Shit, I told you it was too early. Let me get a paper." There was more shuffling to be heard. "This important info; do I tell him I got it from you?"_

_"Tell him you got it from the grapevine."_

_"Sure thing." Fifteen minutes later and Caleb changed his mind. "Grapevine, his ass. He's not gonna' go for that."_

_"Just stall him. I know you'll fold sooner or later anyway. Even Pastor Jim folds with him."_

_"With your daddy, it's either fold or shoot him. I think his ass would probably haunt me even after I fried his bones and Jim's a holy man."_

Sam legs cramped after his first step away from the desk and the two stacks of disks. "Damn it," he muttered, dragging himself onto the edge of the bed.

Lex came out of his bathroom showered, dressed, and annoyingly awake. "Did you finish?"  
He gestured to the other side of the room. "You put the virus over there," he said. He brought his leg out, then in, wincing at the movement.

Lex winced with him. "I can finish it."

"Don't mess it up."

"It's a virus, Sam. The whole point is to 'mess it up'."

Sam fell back on the bed, and his cracking back was clearly heard. "Don't mess it up before you get it in."

"It's not as though I'm going to throw it out the window."

Sam grunted. He stared at the ceiling, not surprised when it started to move in front of him. "Get more sweets…sugar donuts and coffee."

"Right," said Lex, noncommittally.

Sam considered getting the sweets himself but the ceiling was still moving.

_'Coffee brings you up and drags you down,' John Winchester had said when he'd tugged another cup away from Sam's hand the night before finals._

Up and down and Sam was well aware of the direction he was going now.

Sam lay face up, his legs hanging off the bed and his hands on his stomach. When Sam's breathing evened out, Lex poured himself a cup of coffee.

He'd have to drop the laptop off somewhere near White's hotel before the man thought to visit Stanford again. He debated buying a little red bow to place on top. The only real purpose was to be a smart-ass about it but… Lex nodded. He'd buy one.

A phone rang and Lex picked it up on reflex. It was Sam's. His finger moved to the off button when he realized this but someone was already talking.

"I hope your ass wasn't really drunk because the damn pit bull's headed your way. Hello!"

Lex brought the phone up to his ear. "Sam fell asleep. Should I be telling him something when he wakes up?"

"Who the hell is this?"

"I'm a friend of Sam's. You sounded serious."

"Friend of Sam's; that doesn't tell me much."

"My name is Lex." There was no reply. "Do you need my social security number? I don't have an autobiography written but I'm working on it."

"All college boys are smart-asses," the man grumbled. "Lex Luthor?"

"That's right."

"You were on that damn tabloid. Your ass better run from the pit bull, too. Wake Sam up. Jim will condemn me to the fiery depths of shit-hell if I don't warn him."

"Shit-hell?"

"It's where I'll be forced to deal with shit for eternity. If the big guy really wants to torture me, it'll be Winchester _bull_shit. Wake him up!"

It took Lex rolling him almost completely off the bed for Sam to wake up. Even then, his fingers fumbled with the phone and his eyes drifted shut as he brought it to his ear. "'Lo." His eyes opened and a small frown appeared on his face as he got a reply. "Caleb? Wait, slow down."

That earned him a loud reply and Lex could distinctly make out the word 'ass' a couple of times; my ass, your ass, Luthor's ass, stupid-ass, asshole…

Sam sat up in the bed, rubbing at his eyes. The last vestiges of sleep were quickly leaving him as he listened. "What the hell does the tabloid got to do with it?" There was a reply. "He saw it?" Sam paled before narrowing his eyes. "What does it matter? It's none of his damn business!"

Lex handed him a cup of coffee.

Sam took a huge gulp, went for another gulp, and stopped suddenly. "My fault? It was a little picture on a stupid-ass tabloid! I'm not the one with warrants all over the damn country!"

Lex figured it would be a good time for selective hearing. He moved in front of the computer to finish loading but stopped when he heard his name.

"He's got nothing to do with it!" Sam listened. "You told him? I'm surprised he didn't try dragging me out of Metropolis!" He listened some more. "Best guess? He was waiting until he got in trouble. Then, he could blame it on me. 'You fucked up, Sam. I told you you'd just screw it up. Here's proof.' All stashed in his journal like another one of his fucked up cases!" He got up, banged his cup down on the table, and began to pace.

Lex moved it behind the coffee machine before Sam got the urge to throw something.

"That's bullshit! He doesn't carry tabloids around with him! You know why he kept it!"

Lex began placing the discs in their case, using a note card to separate them. Sam continued to pace behind him, occasionally shouting into the phone.

"How far away is he?"

"What the hell does he think he'll do?"

"More likely to get us arrested!"

"Yeah, well, Pastor Jim also thinks the world will one day be a better place."

"'If I leave, I don't come back.' I'm not his son anymore. _He_ said it."

Lex closed the case and placed it into his messenger bag. He stopped the virus and closed up the computer. The laptop went with the case.

"I'm not staying so he could come here and fuck with me!"

Lex pulled the bag over his shoulder.

"I don't care! I'll call back later." Sam snapped the phone shut. He yanked his jacket off the chair and put it on as he moved out the door.

Lex followed him. He locked his door. He had to jog to catch up with Sam's long strides. They reached the exit just as two guys were entering. Sam barreled into them, sending the one in front stumbling backwards. Lex allowed a small smirk when he saw who was stumbling in after a late night.

"Hey!"

"Fuck off, Marcus," Sam growled.

Lex's smirk widened as he passed the surprised boy.

Sam didn't stop until he hit the street. He finished fixing his jacket.

Lex stopped behind him. "Were you planning on walking somewhere?"

Sam didn't turn around. He was taking deep breaths and fiddling with the bottom of his jacket. They stood there until his breathing slowed. Sam turned back halfway. "Can you give me a ride?"

Lex nodded.

He headed to San Francisco with his music on loud and the air condition on so high that it made his eyes sting. It was freezing in the car but Sam didn't acknowledge it. He stayed slumped in the seat, directly facing the vents. He'd bring his hands up to scrub at his face and then resume his position.

Sam didn't speak again until lunchtime. "Didn't you have class?"

"There was nothing important."

"Thanks for the ride."

"No problem."

Sam drummed his fingers on the table, his eyes shooting around the restaurant. "Did the virus ever go through?" Lex passed him the bag. He yanked the computer out and began working. His fingers went back to pounding the table whenever he had to wait for it. "I could've wrote my own virus, you know? I learned years ago."

"That would have taken some time."

"Yeah… I was a little behind on the physical part back then. I was too small. I used to be short."

"I find that hard to imagine."

Sam laughed softly. "Yeah, I just shot up one day. Back then, though, I was short. I didn't really have a lot of speed or strength. So, I learned to work with my head. I got some geek friends and they showed me a lot of stuff. I figured the rest out on my own. I was good at that. I became real good with computers and with school and it felt good, you know? To be good at it."

"It feels good to be good."

Sam smiled. "Let me guess, your next sentence is gonna' have the name Luthor somewhere in there with the words 'real good'."

"Luthor's are real good with many things." He smirked as Sam laughed. "Believe it or not, though, this Luthor used to be a pushover."

"People used to tell you what to do?"

"No, I was the literal push over and shove over and punch at."

"You couldn't kick their ass?"

Lex shook his head. "I didn't know how to fight then. Then, this man who works for my father showed up and he said he could teach me. I learned real fast and I was good at all of it."

"It felt good to be good?"

"It felt good to be good."

The waitress came with their food. Sam waited until she left before beginning, "Once upon a time, there was screw up one and screw up two. They learned to kick ass. One was smarter and one was richer."

Lex continued, "The latter was infinitely better-looking with style and grace."

"The former could out lie the devil and had much better taste."

"You have better taste in what?" Lex asked, looking doubtful.

Sam glared. "Women, screw up two."

"Okay, I'll give you that." Lex went on, "The richer was a charmer while the smarter could be quite rude."

"The richer was an asshole who couldn't cook his own food."

"The smarter should really change his attitude from the norm, considering he left his wallet in my dorm."

Sam patted at his pockets and groaned. "The smarter swears his mouth will be still, if the good rich man would please take the bill."

"I'll think about it."

"I'll pay you back."

"And so the story ends with the richer on top, and the smarter close to a date with the dishes and mop."

"Asshole."

* * *

How is it? 


	12. Clues

Disclaimer: Supernatural and Smallville are not mine.

Summary: When Sam meets an eighteen-year-old Lex Luthor at Stanford, safety and normalcy become a dream.

* * *

"Your dad's scary." 

Sam brought a hand up to massage his head. "How scary?"

"He's demanding to know where you are," Mickey said. "He went to almost everyone in our building. He even talked to a few teachers. One of them must have told him about Lex because he went there to find you and then started asking everyone in that building. I heard he threatened Marcus."

Sam groaned. His dad was a tyrant. "Was there someone else with him?"

"Yeah, there was this other guy. He broke into our room and then he kicked me out. He hasn't left the room and I don't want to ask him to because he looks really…"

"Scary?"

"Kind of."

Sam nodded. "Sorry about this, Mickey, but I don't think they're gonna' be leaving anytime soon. Do you have somewhere to stay?"

"Yeah," his voice turned giddy, "I'm staying in Dinah's room."

Sam recalled a fairly pretty and very pushy girl from history class. He shook his head. "That's great. Make sure she doesn't eat you."

"She's not that bad."

"I'm just saying… I'll try to get them out of our room tomorrow."

"No problem."

"Alright, thanks for the update. Bye."

Sam hung up the phone and began to bang his head on Lex's seat, repeatedly.

Lex didn't look up from his laptop. Perry's had been dumped at a post two hours before without so much as a 'Fragile: Handle with Care' sticker on it. "Let me guess. Your father hasn't given up."

Sam banged his head once more for good measure. "He kicked Mickey out of our dorm two hours. He and my brother are now just waiting."

"You talk as if you expect them to ambush you."

"It's possible." Sam rolled his neck and there was audible cracking. "Find out whose trying to kill you yet?"

Lex sighed, irritably. "Perry White needs to learn a thing or two about organization. There are a few notes on the press conference. There's a file on Jason Bross. There's one on Cadmus Labs. There's another on United Weaponry. Intergang's mentioned but it always is. There's also a description of a guy named Eric Maples and it's noted that he has no connection to Bross, United Weaponry, Cadmus, or Intergang. He also wasn't at the press conference."

"What's the connection then?"

"That's just the thing. I don't know and his files don't see fit to explain the information."

Sam frowned. "I know who Bross is and I'm guessing Cadmus Labs is a science lab. What's United Weaponry."

"It's a weapons manufacturer that sells to the government."

"What government?"

"Officially, the United States government. Unofficially, they sell to any one who has enough money to afford their equipment. Alec Schneider isn't picky."

Sam's eyes widened. "Wait a minute. Alec Schneider; the blond hair, blue eyes, big talker."

Lex looked up. "The blond hair and blue eyes is right but he's not much of a talker."

"My dad used to pick up his hunting rifles from some small-time gun dealer. He got his best weapons delivered in a Cadillac. The driver was this idiot who never shut up. My brother made fun of him once and he told him his name was 'Alec Schneider and Dean didn't know who he was messing with'." Sam's voice turned high and arrogant for the last few words.

Lex laughed. "That's Ryan Schneider. He's Alec Schneider's cousin. Alec used to bring him over for Christmas until Ryan insulted my father. The Schneider's like to tell us how embarrassed they are of him and his lack of manners."

Sam shook his head. "So, Perry White thinks all these people are somehow connected? Is he a conspiracy theorist?"

"Yes; unfortunately, he's almost always right."

"That must be depressing. Drop me off at another good computer and I can probably find out who Eric Maples is."

sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Do any of your friends own normal one-story, two bedroom houses?"

"No."

"Hmm. Do they give the key to all of their friends?"

Lex smirked. "Molly likes to make sure I can meet her whenever she's in town."

"Where is she?"

"She's at a boarding school in Africa."

Sam looked around the penthouse. "Should we be expecting any other boyfriends dropping in?"

"I'm her favorite."

Sam rolled his eyes.

ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

Sam cursed. He then pulled out his cell phone and punched in Caleb's number."

Caleb answered as Sam thought he would. "The bulldog's pissed, Sam."

"I'm crying my eyes out," Sam shot back. "That reporter had a file on a guy that he connected with the press conference."

"I told you I put someone else on it. Leave it alone, Sam."

Sam ignored him. "That guy was arrested twice. The first time was in Kansas for grave desecration. The last time was in Metropolis for trespassing. He was awaiting trial when he disappeared."

"What name is he using?"

"Eric Maples."

"That's the hunter."

"I figured. According to this reporter, a John Doe was found at the docks two days after Eric Maples disappeared. From the little that was left him, he comes off as the same guy."

Caleb was quiet.

"He was beaten, Caleb. From the splinters in him and the blunt trauma, they're guessing it was a bat."

"Humans."

"Yeah…" Sam took a deep breath. A hunter died. They'd have to send someone to burn him. "There's a whole bunch of files on humans; some billionare out here, Intergang in Metropolis, and a weapons company owned by Alec Schneider."

"Big-mouth-Alec-Schneider."

"That was apparently his cousin."

Caleb's voice was cold as he replied, "Good. If he likes to talk so much, he can talk to me. I know how to find him."

"Caleb…"

"Eric was a friend."

"Eric Maples was killed, probably by people like Intergang," Sam said. "Just be careful."

"I guess I could always call your father and ask for help."

"Please do," Sam blurted out.

Sam entered his room slowly, sure that something was left behind for him; a note, a booby-trap…

Instead, there was a knife and gun beneath his pillow. They were the ones he'd used on the werewolf and lost on the forest floor. The knife was cleaned, the gun was loaded, and they looked good as new.

Sam checked his weapon's bag. Sure enough, he had a new box of salt, a baggy filled with silver bullets, and two flasks of holy water. He flipped through the pages of his journal. Underneath his first entry was, 'Good Luck', scrawled in Dean's familiar handwriting. The next couple of pages had excorcisms and blessings probably copied from Dean's journal or maybe even dad's.

Sam stared at it for a second before flipping to the back cover. Dean and Dad's name and number had already been written. Sam added Caleb, Pasteur Jim, and Bobby before drawing a small cross and then the name 'Eric Maples'.

* * *

That wasn't too much of a brain dump, was it? Review. 


	13. Guilt

Disclaimer: Supernatural and Smallville are not mine.

Summary: When Sam meets an eighteen-year-old Lex Luthor at Stanford, safety and normalcy become a dream.

* * *

It felt like the first day after parent-teacher conferences – the few times his dad was forced to show up by nosy counselors or guilted into it by Pastor Jim. Sam hated those times. Nobody seemed to understand that he _did not_ want his dad to come. He didn't. Whenever his dad came, he would be inevitably followed by -.

The name "Sam Winchester" and "is that him?" drifted to his ears.

Yeah, he would be followed by whispers and pointing.

There was always pointing, 'cause John Winchester had a presence. It wasn't a stare-in-awe-presence but a run-while-you-still-can presence. After he came by, people would look to Sam, pointing at the Winchester that wasn't likely to bite their finger off if they got too close.

Sam could still hear the whispers carried over from old schools; _"Is that him? Did you hear what his dad did? That is so freaky. He's a total freak. His brother's an asshole. His dad's a psycho. Don't know where his mom is; probably took off. My dad said…My mom said…I heard…" _As usual, his dad and Dean were above it all. It didn't matter if they didn't pay enough attention to hear it. However, Sam heard it. Always.

And – damn it – his dad came again and made him feel like a twelve-year-old who wanted to scream at everyone to just. Shut. UP. The great John Winchester came and made him -.

Sam kept a hold on the strap of his backpack but kicked out hard enough to send it swinging fast. Inevitably, it swung back toward him, the books nailing him hard in the leg.

There was someone pointing, the guy in the dorm two doors over.

"Can I help you?" Sam asked. The guy stiffened. Just because something wasn't likely to bite didn't mean it wouldn't.

LLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

When the guy shrugged and backed away slowly, Lex sighed. Sam was having a tantrum to rival Victoria's when her father's servants dumped her stash.

He had foregone breaking into Lex's room and instead was already bunched into a corner of the lecture hall. He had then began to swing his leg into the wall with so much force that Lex could swear there was a dent when he left.

The violence had continued from there. It went from throwing pencils and slamming doors to almost decapitating a statue with his backpack.

"Are you okay?" Lex asked.

Sam didn't stop glaring at the retreating boy but he answered, "I'm fine." His jaw was set and he still had a death grip on the strap of his backpack.

"Are you sure?" Lex asked, continuing to walk again.

Sam followed. "I think I'd know if I had a problem."

"Of course you would."

"What does that mean?"

Lex glanced at Sam. He'd been careful to keep any extra meaning out of his voice so Sam must have been looking to fight someone. One wrong word, and Lex had a feeling he might as well volunteer. "It means that you usually have good control of your emotions and it's reasonable to assume that your control would be applied as much now as ever."

Sam stared at him a moment before snorting. "That was a very proper way of explaining it Lex," he said, and, just like that, he deflated.

Lex frowned, because when Sam deflated, it seemed like a literal deflation. His shoulders hunched, his head went down, and everything about him appeared to get a lot smaller.

At the moment, he was a walking pile of clothing and hair.

"I know an intern at Cadmus Labs. He's going to get a hold of the files on Helen Marshall, see why they relocated the body," Lex offered.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Sam swiped his hand on his jeans, wiping off something invisible. Then, somehow, he got smaller.

Lex tried again. "I'm not sure how to look into United Weaponry if we don't know where to start. I believe Alec Schneider is in Spain at the moment. I know Ryan Schneider but he doesn't like me all that much."

"Caleb's gonna' talk to him," Sam interrupted.

Lex didn't know who Caleb was but, judging from Sam's tone, he could make Ryan say the right things. "We still don't know where to find Eric Maples."

Sam interrupted again. "Eric Maples is dead. He was beaten to death. He wasn't part of this. He was -," Sam paused, "He was in the business."

"What business?"

Eyes came up between the clothing and hair. They shifted back down again. "He was part of my dad's business. My dad, my brother, and Caleb are all in the same business. They – uh – they're kind of like investigators or hunters…maybe."

Lex cocked an eyebrow. Bounty hunters…maybe.

Sam continued, "He went there to look into what happened. Caleb, my brother, and my dad are there now to look into what happened to him."

"That's why your dad finally left?"

The pile of clothing and hair got bigger until it developed back into Sam, jaw clenching and all. "Yeah, thank god Caleb called him away."

"Did you want to see him?"

"For what? So he can give his orders and we could shout at each other all day long?" Sam began his kicking his backpack again. He developed a low and authoritative voice. "_Look what you did, Sam? Do you even know what you did? You put me and your brother in deep shit 'cause you can't keep your head down."_ Sam sped up. Sam's voice was slowly returning to normal but he kept talking, like he was addressing himself. "Always pulling crap like this and we have to deal with it. First, you take off, throwing a fucking tantrum." He was practically jogging across the grounds. "Then, you go out hunting like a stupid-ass and pull Jim and Caleb all the way out there to save your sorry ass. Now, you can't make it without pulling some other shit. God damn it, Sam! What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He went silent, breathing a little too even. He entered his building at a slower pace and led the way to his dorm. Mickey was in there with a girl. Her hair was dyed black and her long and lethal-looking fingernails were going through Sam's drawer.

Sam brought a hand up to pinch the bride of his nose. "Mickey," he said, warningly.

The girl spun, caught in the act. She gave Sam a cursory glance and dismissed him. Luckily, for her safety, Mickey stepped in; "I'm sorry. I told her you probably don't have one but she want to look because we need one and we kind of want one and -."

"What do you want Mickey?"

Mickey blushed. "Well, um…"

The girl rolled her eyes at him. "Condom," she said, flatly.

Sam moved toward the girl and, for a moment, Lex thought he might physically remove her from the room. Instead, he bent down, reached beneath the bed, dragged out a duffle, and pulled a condom from out of a side pocket. He tossed it at the girl. "Go to _your_ room," he ordered.

She huffed. "Whatever." She left with long fingernails waving dismissively in the air. Mickey trailed after her.

Sam took a seat on his bed, elbows on knees. "I'll check the Daily Planet news. They might have a hint on what Intergang's into now."

Lex nodded, waiting.

A full minute later, Sam finally looked up. "He doesn't get to make me feel guilty," he said, one hand squeezing another fist. "He doesn't have the right."

If there was one thing Lex knows, they didn't need the right to make you feel like a fuck up. Just the power.

* * *

What do you think? Review. 


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